An Orphan's Tale - Selene Stormblade Book 1
by Whisper292
Summary: Selene has been away from Skyrim for eight years, and she returns to her homeland with a very specific purpose in mind. It seems, however, that the Divines have a different mission for her. Characters and settings c.2011 Bethesda Softworks, LLC
1. An Orphan's Tale 1: Dilly

An Orphan's Tale 1

Dilly

"It's been a dilly of a day." Selene could still hear Ben say it. She wasn't sure what a dilly was, but she guessed today was just that. The day had taken one hairpin turn after another until she was afraid to wonder what was next.

Selene didn't believe much in luck. She believed a person dealt with what the Divines gave her the best she could. Things happened that one couldn't always explain, but that wasn't luck. That was just the gods messing with your head. _Ben_ had believed in luck, and they had argued about it more than most anything else. She wondered what he'd say about her luck today. She could almost hear him as he would have recounted the day's events.

_Bad luck:_ She had been trying to cross the border from Cyrodiil yesterday when she happened upon a prisoner caravan led by Imperial soldiers. They apparently didn't like her trying to get into the province, because one of them whacked her on the head and threw her into a cart.

_Good luck:_ She had awakened this morning, hands tied, head pounding, but sitting next to none other than Ulfric Stormcloak! She had heard about him all the way down in Cyrodiil, and he was her hero. She hated the Imperials, and he was hitting them where it hurt. Ulfric was one of the main reasons Selene had decided to come home to Skyrim. After she took care of the business she came back for, she was seriously considering joining the Stormcloaks. If she couldn't bring herself to submit to that much structure, she would help the cause in her own way.

_Bad luck:_ There had been no time to give him the "I'm your biggest fan" speech because the cart arrived in Helgen, and in the town square was a chopping block complete with headsman. Hadvar, the Imperial soldier who wrote her name down in his little book, said she'd picked a bad time to return to her homeland, and he wasn't kidding. If she had waited one more day, she'd have gotten safely inside Skyrim and wouldn't be in such a predicament. He actually seemed nice, trying to convince the captain not to execute her because she wasn't on their list, but the captain had said to kill her anyway.

Selene couldn't categorize what had happened next as bad or good luck because it was so far out of the realm of possibility that she _still_ wasn't completely sure it was real. Her head had been on the block and the headsman had been in mid-swing when a monstrosity landed on the tower behind him. The creature was enormous, with black scales, leathery wings, red eyes, and teeth the size of a skeever. The Imperials scattered, yelling at each other and pulling their weapons, but shooting arrows at it didn't do a thing. Selene just knelt there, stunned into immobility, only to be thrown to the ground when the dragon spoke. Spoke! The words, which were uttered in a language she didn't recognize, resulted in a loud crash of thunder and a mighty burst of air that knocked her to the ground and sent several of the others flying. Ralof, one of the prisoners on her cart, urged her to get up, and she followed him into a nearby tower, where Ulfric was shouting orders. He sent them up into the tower.

_Bad luck_: She and Ralof made their way through the keep and connecting tunnels, dodging the dragon several times but had to fight off half a dozen Imperials, four frostbite spiders, and a bear. It seemed the obstacles the gods put in their way never ended. It was like a bad adventure story where the author kept saying, "Let's see how I can screw with my hero now!"

_ Good luck:_ They finally managed to get out of Helgen. They went to Riverwood, where Ralof's sister gave her coin and food.

Thinking about it now, Selene figured Ben would say the dragon was good luck. After all, if it hadn't attacked, she'd be dead now.

_"Boy, it was sure lucky that dragon showed up when it did!"_

_"Kiddo, sometimes I think you're not right in the head."_

_"Maybe so, but I'm not the one having an imaginary conversation with a dead person."_

He had her there. But she didn't care what most of the living said anyway, and she had to talk to _somebody_. She had been lonely for a while now.

Ralof had been the first person she'd really talked to since arriving in Skyrim. In fact, he'd been the first person in weeks. He hadn't been what she'd call a master conversationalist, but he had courage and honor. She could have escaped Helgen with somebody a lot worse. Then after all that, his sister had been so kind to her, giving her supplies and offering her a warm bed and a safe place to hide out. It reminded Selene that there were good people in the world. She had too much nervous energy to rest, so she rejected the offer of a bed but promised Gerdur she would take word to the Jarl of Whiterun about the dragon attack. As if he would actually see her.

Now here she was, still reeling from the insanity that had occurred since she had entered Skyrim, walking down the hill toward Whiterun. Selene had been born in Whiterun, but she didn't remember it. Her parents had been killed by Imperial soldiers when she was five, and she had lived at Honorhall Orphanage for six years before running away and crossing the border into Cyrodiil, where she had spent the next eight years. She was a stranger to her homeland and the town where she was born. As she turned a corner and headed down the hill, the walled city came into view. It was dominated by a majestic castle with high, steep roofs and many windows. It was near suppertime; hopefully they had an inn with some good food. She could sleep on the ground if she had to; she was long used to sleeping outside. But she was famished, and she wanted something more satisfying than the rations Gerdur had given her. First, though, she wanted to lighten her load—sell the stuff she had managed to lift from the Imperial soldiers she had killed—and try to get in to see the jarl.

She approached a party of Imperials who were escorting a prisoner to Kyne knew where. It was probably a bad idea to interfere, but she couldn't just let the Imperials have this guy, who was probably a Stormcloak. She pulled a sword she had picked up when fighting her way through Helgen's keep, walked up to the prisoner, and before the Imperials could even say, "Move along, citizen; this doesn't concern you," she deftly sliced his binds and tossed him the weapon. The Imperials attacked, of course, and she dropped everything but one sword so her items would not weigh her down. One of the soldiers fought the prisoner, leaving two of them on her. It had been a while since she had fought two at once, and even then she hadn't been very good at it. But she managed to parry their attacks and get a clean shot at one of them, leaving her with the other. He was a better swordsman than Selene, but she was quicker and had a keener eye. When he swung a little too wide, she managed to duck under his arm and bury her sword in his side.

Leather armor. Why did armies insist on giving their infantry such flimsy armor?

The prisoner, who had killed the soldier he was fighting, thanked her and went on his way. Selene picked up her gear and looted the bodies. She got two more swords, some gold, and one of the soldiers' armor, which she folded up and tucked under her arm, planning to go to the general store and get a knapsack to carry her stuff. She could carry quite a bit, but doing it without some sort of pack was very cumbersome. The pack she was carrying when she came across the border was perfect, but the Imperials had confiscated it. Oh, well. They were probably burned to a crackly crunch now and couldn't use it anyway. Served them right.

Selene started again toward Whiterun, praying to the Divines that the rest of the trip would be uneventful because she was starting to get tired, but she should have known. Nothing was ever easy. As she passed a farm outside of town, she saw three people fighting a giant. Again, she dropped her gear, pulled the bow, and sent an arrow at the giant. It hit, but he didn't drop. The warriors pounded and hacked away at him, but he was tenacious. She drew another arrow and managed to hit him in the head, and he finally fell dead.

The body count was going up. Since she crossed the border from Cyrodiil in the wee hours of the morning, she had killed six Imperial soldiers, two frostbite spiders, a bear, and a giant. A _giant!_ Of course, she'd had help killing the giant, but that wasn't the point. She had killed before—one did what one had to do to survive—but by the Eight!

She wondered if Ben could see her from Oblivion, or Sovngarde, or wherever he was. If he could, he was laughing his arse off at her. "Oh, shut up," she muttered to no one.

As she approached the three individuals who had been fighting the giant, what could only be described as a wild woman came toward her. She wore leather armor, and it was even less protective than the soldiers' uniforms. Steel pauldrons and cassets covered her shoulders and hips, but the torso was cut all the way to her navel with only a couple of steel bars across her chest. Her boots were made of some sort of fur. Her hair was red, and she might have been pretty, but Selene couldn't tell because of several stripes of war paint across her face. When she spoke, her voice didn't match her primitive appearance. "You fight well," she said in a strong, authoritative voice. "I'm Aela. This is Ria, and that's Farkas."

Ria, a sweet-faced Imperial wearing fur armor, nodded hello. When Farkas, who had been looting the giant's body, looked up at her, Selene had to bite her lip to keep her jaw from dropping. He was fantastic. His dark hair hung to his shoulders, and he had the clearest eyes she had ever seen. They were the color of an overcast sky with a stream of sunlight shining through, and the dark war paint he wore around them made them leap out at her. His beard was full but very short, as if he had shaved in the last few days. When he smiled at her, she found it hard to look away.

"What is your name?" Aela asked her, dragging her gaze away from the handsome warrior.

"Selene," she responded.

"Are you just passing through Whiterun? If you stay, you might consider joining the Companions. We are always looking for good fighters to join our ranks."

"Who are the Companions?"

"We're an order of warriors based in Jorrvaskr, the mead hall next to Dragonsreach. I don't make the decisions, though. Come talk to Kodlak, our Harbinger, and he will see if you're worthy. He can see into a person's heart and soul. Hopefully we will see you there."

Aela and Ria went past her and headed up the road toward Whiterun, and Selene bent down to pick up her gear. Farkas was suddenly there beside her.

"Let me help you with that," he offered in a deep, husky voice that was a perfect match for the rest of him. He picked up the swords and armor.

"Thanks. I need to get a knapsack."

"See Belethor in the marketplace. He'll fix you up. Warmaiden's is right inside the gate. They'll buy your weapons and armor."

"Again, thanks."

"No problem. Aela's right. You should come to Jorrvaskr and join the Companions."

"I'm on my way to Riften."

"Well, if you change your mind..."

"How long have you been with them?"

"I've been a Companion since I was a whelp. Our father raised me and my brother in Jorrvaskr." As Farkas told her a little more about the Companions, he spoke slowly, almost as if he were carefully trying to form the words he was saying. At times, his speech patterns almost sounded like those of a little boy. It was endearing.

At the gate, the guard eyed her suspiciously. "The city is closed," he barked. "Official business only."

"It's all right," said Farkas. "She's with me."

"I do have official business," Selene commented. "I have news for the jarl about the dragon attack in Helgen."

Farkas looked at her, eyes wide, as did the guard.

"All right, then," said the guard. "Just keep your nose clean."

"Of course." She followed Farkas inside the gate and into Warmaiden's blacksmith shop.

"This is War-Bear," he told her, pointing to the burly, heavily bearded shopkeeper. "Belethor's is just down the street. Will you be all right from here?"

"I should be, aye."

"The Bannered Mare is just across from Belethor's. You can get a place to sleep there, and some food and drink, too."

"Thank you, Farkas."

He smiled, nodded to War-Bear and an attractive Imperial woman who sat behind the counter, then left the shop.

"Looks like you have some things to trade," said War-Bear.

"Aye. I have this to sell, and I'll need some arrows."

They worked out a price and made the transaction, and Selene left the shop and headed down the street toward the general store. Whiterun was a pretty little city, rustic and a bit worn but welcoming, with lattice-work doors and windows, cobblestone streets, and patches of wildflowers growing here and there. A couple of children ran past her, yelling playful taunts at each other. The market district consisted of a handful of buildings and carts arranged in a circle around a well. The merchants at the kiosks sold food and jewelry, and they loudly hawked their wares at all who passed. The Bannered Mare was straight ahead, and to the right were signs indicating an alchemy shop and the general store. A slim Nord with blond hair in a ponytail halfway down his back leaned against one of the store's posts, arms folded and feet crossed, watching her come down the street.

He greeted her amicably. "Well met, newcomer."

"To you as well." Selene stepped into the general store. Inside, she found a little Breton with a boisterous voice and a love of money. She knew he had a love of money because it was the first thing he told her. "E-e-everything's for sale, my friend! Everything!"

"How about a knapsack?"

"Big or small?"

"Big."

He went to the back and rooted around noisily, grumbling about never being able to find anything. Finally, after a loud crash, he said, "Aha!" and brought out a brand-new knapsack made of high-quality brushed leather with heavy, double stitching on all the seams. It was the nicest pack she had ever seen. "That'll be twenty septims."

"Twenty? Are you mad? That old thing isn't worth more than five, tops."

Belethor laughed. "Okay, fifteen."

She smiled and leaned over the counter toward him. "You know what, Belethor? I can probably find something on my own. All sorts of bandits on the roads who carry them, you know? Or, I hear there's a really good general store in Riverwood. I bet he can sell me—"

"Oh, very well, ten," the merchant muttered irritably. "But that trader in Riverwood is no good, I'm telling you. I have much better stock here."

She handed over ten gold pieces. "Of course, you do. But a little competition's good for the soul, no?"

"No!" he chuckled. "Anything else I can get for you this evening?"

"Nope, but I'm sure I'll see you again. Goodnight, Belethor."

"Come back soon, pretty lady."

And, on up to Dragonsreach.

The palace was even more beautiful up close. Torches, lanterns and windows gave off a welcoming glow in the waning daylight, and the water of the decorative moat glistened joyfully. It was too bad the guards didn't give her as warm a greeting as the building. They eyed her warily, and she couldn't help glaring back at them. Selene knew it was a guard's job to be suspicious of strangers, but she had never liked getting dirty looks just for walking down the street. One of them stopped her as she reached for the door.

"What's your business?" he asked officiously.

"Isn't Dragonsreach a public place?"

"You just watch yourself, Stormcloak. Don't go causing any trouble."

"Storm—ah, I understand. I'm not a Stormcloak. My clothes were damaged when the dragon attacked Helgen, and—"

"Helgen? By all means, go right in."

She nodded her thanks and entered the palace. In truth, she didn't expect it to be so easy. He was the _jarl_, for Kyne's sake! And the guards let a 19-year-old girl in a Stormcloak uniform just waltz in like she lived there. Selene felt sorry for them if the Stormcloaks ever attacked the city.

The housecarl turned out to be just as easy. Selene used the Helgen excuse again and was allowed to go within touching distance of the jarl. Unbelievable.

He sat on his throne, looking bored, and gazed up at her. "You were at Helgen? So it's true about the dragon?"

"Aye, it destroyed the village and headed north."

An argument ensued between the housecarl—Irileth, a robust Dunmer who had seen her share of fighting—and Proventus Avenicci, the steward. Proventus was a sniveling Imperial whom Selene immediately pegged as a coward. He was a "wait and see" type of person, more interested in talking than doing. Irileth wanted to send guards to Riverwood, but Proventus wasn't having it.

"If we do that, the jarl of Falkreath will think we're siding with the Stormcloaks and sending an invasion force," he whined.

Selene rolled her eyes, and the jarl noticed.

"What would _you_ do, then?" he challenged her.

"My lord, I've seen this dragon and what he did to Helgen. I don't know if the guards would have a chance against it, but if it attacks Riverwood, the villagers will be utterly helpless. We're talking about simple farmers and tradesmen who don't know much about fighting. If that dragon shows up with no one to defend them, they're dead."

Balgruuf stared at her for a moment before looking up at the housecarl. "Send your men," he said.

"My jarl, I" —Proventus began.

The jarl put his hand up to stop him. "I won't have the people of my hold slaughtered without coming to their aid. I'll deal with Siddgeir if necessary." He stood and motioned for Selene to follow him. "As for you, I believe I have work for you."

He led her to the office of the court wizard, a funny-looking Nord with a very long chin and thin lips. She assumed Farengar Secret-Fire had hair on his head to go with his fuzzy, mutton-chop sideburns, but she couldn't see it under his hood, which covered the better part of his face.

"Dragons have been a pet project of mine for some time," he explained. "I shouldn't need to tell you that the appearance of the dragon at Helgen has piqued my curiosity. I've recently been made aware of a certain stone tablet that might help my research. I was also given a possible location. I need you to retrieve said tablet for me." Just the way he said it told Selene this was more than a simple errand.

"Retrieve?"

"Well, actually, trudge through draugr-infested catacombs to find an object that may or may not be there."

"Now, see? Why didn't you say it like that? Conversations would be a lot shorter if people would just say what they meant in the first place. Okay, sounds good. Where am I going?"

Farengar gave the jarl an amused look, and Balgruuf smiled in return. "Bleak Falls Barrow," the wizard replied. "It's near a miserable little town named—"

"Riverwood, I know. I passed it on the way here from Helgen. I'll be back in a few days."

"Time is of the essence, you know," said Farengar. "The jarl is not a patient man. Nor am I, for that matter."

"I'll get it for you as quickly as I can. If it's not fast enough, feel free to go get it yourself."

The two men gaped at her, obviously not used to being spoken to so bluntly. After the initial moment of surprise, the jarl's eyes blazed. "You dare—"

"You must excuse my manner, my jarl," she interrupted. "After the day I've had, I'm sure you understand that my nerves are raw. At this point I desperately need to find some food and a warm bed."

"Then go," he said sympathetically. "Eat and get some rest, then start out in the morning."

Selene nodded in response and turned to leave, but Balgruuf called to her. "Warrior. What is your name?"

"It's Selene. Goodnight, gentlemen." She left the room without being dismissed. As she walked through the castle and down the outer stairs toward the Bannered Mare, she tried to figure out which category to put the encounter in. _ Bad:_ Farengar got on her nerves. He was pompous and liked to hear himself talk, and Selene didn't care for that. _ Good:_ The jarl didn't throw her in jail for smarting off. She liked Jarl Balgruuf. Their brief conversation had left the impression that he said what he meant and meant what he said. He didn't subscribe to the political bullshit so many leaders insisted on spouting. _Bad:_ Navigating a draugr-infested dungeon without backup. _Good:_ It was a job. _Bad:_ It would further delay her trip to Riften. Then again, now that she was in Skyrim, she wasn't in that much of a hurry to get there anyway. It wasn't as though she was having second thoughts, but that didn't mean she was looking forward to doing what she had to do.

Of course, she couldn't forget the other events that happened since she had approached Whiterun. _Bad:_ Scuffling with the Imperial soldiers. _Good:_ Freeing the prisoner. _Bad:_ Yet _another_ fight, this time with a giant. _Good:_ Farkas.

Hmm.

She decided to give Farkas two _goods._ He was beautiful _and_ he was a nice guy.

She realized she had stopped thinking in terms of luck and just of "good" and "bad." Too much had happened on either side today for it to just be luck. No, the gods were messing with her. Why they decided to pick her—and on the day she returned to Skyrim, no less—was beyond her. But who knew why the Divines did the things they did? Maybe it was just their twisted way of saying, "Welcome home."

Selene walked into the Bannered Mare, a crowded little inn with a fire pit in the center of the main hall and delicious aromas wafting in from a room off to the left. She recognized War-Bear from the blacksmith shop playing dice with the man who had spoken to her in the marketplace and one other, a handsome blond in an Imperial uniform. Farkas, Ria, and another woman sat in a corner, engaged in a heated conversation. Most of the rest of the group gathered around the bar or sat at the fire pit, listening to the bard, who was currently belting out "Age of Aggression."

Selene rolled her eyes. That song had made it all the way to Cyrodiil, and she had to wonder why anyone would rather live as slaves to an emperor who knew nothing of their lives in Skyrim than fight for the right to live how they chose. Then again, maybe they didn't really want to worship Talos. She hadn't heard much about him growing up, but the Imperials in Cyrodiil seemed to think he was all the rage here in spite of the White-Gold Concordat, which outlawed his worship. Oh, she was sure there was more to the war than that, but it was the only thing she knew at this point, so she went with what she had.

She nudged her way through the crowd and up to the bar, where a matronly woman smiled. "What can I get for you, traveler?"

"Do you got any rooms?"

"Aye. Ten septims for a day."

Selene counted out ten gold pieces and placed them on the bar. "What's on the menu?" she asked.

Before the barkeep could answer, someone nudged her out of the way . "Hulda, give us another round."

Selene looked over to see the woman who had been sitting with Farkas and Ria. She was around Selene's age, a bit taller, with narrow, hateful eyes and a derisive sneer. She didn't even bother acknowledging Selene after cutting in on her.

"You need to wait your turn," she snapped at the rude Companion. "She's busy waiting on me."

The woman turned her sneer on Selene. "No, you need to wait _your_ turn. Companions come first."

Selene turned back to Hulda. "So, Hulda. The menu?"

With that, the taller woman pushed her. "You're not gonna ignore me, girl."

"Trust me, Companion. You don't want to do this."

Hulda heaved an exasperated sigh as the woman's fist came directly at Selene's face. Selene moved to the side and pushed the woman's arm out of the way, then landed a punch of her own to her jaw, sending her head snapping back. Before she had the chance to recover, Selene grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her painfully.

"Gods damn you!" the woman shouted.

Before Selene could retort, Ria stepped between them. "Selene, would you mind letting Njada go, please? She's no use to the Companions with a broken arm."

"Somebody should tell _her_ that," Selene retorted, not letting go.

"Let her go!" Farkas roared from in front of Njada.

When Selene got a better look, she realized it _wasn't_ Farkas, just somebody who looked a lot like him. Must be the brother he had mentioned. She gave Njada's arm a final twist before hurling her toward the Farkas lookalike, who caught her and asked if she was okay. When she nodded, he pointed to the table where they had been sitting. "Go," he ordered her.

Njada glared at him for a moment and then stomped over to the table. When he turned to Selene, she put both hands in the air. "I don't need this," she grumbled as she turned and walked out of the inn.

He followed her outside, taking her arm as he caught up with her. "You don't need to leave. Hulda's used to fights breaking out."

"Friendly little town you got here." She tried to pull her arm from his grasp, but he gripped it harder.

"I'm trying to apologize," he said indignantly.

"Oh, is that what this is?"

"Aye, if you'll be still and give me a chance to get it out." Selene stopped and looked him in the eye, waiting. "Njada is young," he told her. "All she knows is fighting."

"That was the apology?"

He let go of her arm and wheeled about, growling in frustration. He started to walk away, but he stopped after a few feet and returned. "I'm going to try this again," he said with as much patience as he could muster. "I apologize for Njada's behavior. She's young and can be a bully. We're working on training that streak out of her."

"Was that so hard?"

Farkas's brother narrowed his eyes. "Are you always this hostile?"

"Well, you're not exactly being warm and friendly, you know."

He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, and Selene got the distinct impression he was fighting for control. She decided not to push this one any further.

"I'm sorry. I'm confrontational by nature, and I've had a really bad day."

When he opened his eyes and looked back at her, the moonlight hit them just right, and they practically glowed. Selene realized now that he and Farkas didn't look _a lot_ alike; they looked _just_ alike. They were twins. But this one didn't have the smile and relaxed disposition of his brother. He was strung tighter than a daedric bow.

"The others told me how you helped them kill a giant at Pelagius's farm," he said. "And from what I saw in there, you're quite a fighter. How do you handle yourself with a sword?"

"Not bad."

"Farkas said Aela had invited you to come to Jorrvaskr. Come with me now. Since Njada denied you the bed you paid for, you can have hers."

"What, and have her yank me out of it in the middle of the night? No, thank you."

The twin chuckled. "I'll handle Njada. Come on. There's no safer place in all of Skyrim."

"Thank you..."

"Vilkas."

"Thank you, Vilkas, but I would be uncomfortable sleeping there. I'm perfectly happy camping out on the tundra. Besides, I have somewhere to go in the morning, and camping will give me a head start."

Vilkas glowered at her. "You're stubborn, aren't you?"

"You have no idea." She didn't know what possessed her to do so, but she reached out and squeezed his arm affectionately, then made her way to the city gates. She found a nice spot to camp just past the crossroads that would take her either north across the bridge or south to Riverwood. A small circle of bushes provided a wind break and would rustle if anybody tried to intrude. She ducked behind a nearby rock to pee and then went back to the thicket, where she dug into her knapsack. Gerdur had given her some cheese, dried meat, an apple, and a bottle of mead. It wasn't the dinner she'd been hoping for, but it filled her belly.

Her hunger sated, she lay down with her head on the knapsack and looked up at Masser, which hung overhead, so close it took up half the sky. Selene had always been fond of lying on her back and gazing up at the moon and stars, wondering such crazy things as how far away they were and if anybody lived there. Notions to drive Ben mad with frustration. Ben didn't understand nature the way she did.

It wasn't long before exhaustion finally took over and her eyelids began to droop. As she drifted off, she ran through the list of bizarre events that had shaped her day. Dragons, giants, jarls, wizards, warriors, more fighting than she cared to do in one day, and a set of gorgeous but very different twins. All in the space of about twelve hours.

Dilly of a day.

* * *

Characters and settings c. 2011 Bethesda Softworks LLC


	2. An Orphan's Tale 2: Dragonborn

An Orphan's Tale 2

Dragonborn

When Selene awoke, she had company. A fox crouched between two of the bushes surrounding her, her ears perked and her black eyes watching warily.

"Hi, little lady," Selene cooed. "Did I take your home? I'm sorry." She dug in her pack and pulled out a piece of dried meat, which she held out to the little vixen. "You hungry? How about a bite?"

The fox hesitated, but her nose twitched at the scent of the food. Over the course of a few minutes, Selene gently coaxed the animal into the clearing, where she took the meat and darted back into the bushes. While the fox ate, Selene broke camp.

"Bye, sweetie," she said as she started down the road toward Bleak Falls Barrow. She carried her bow with an arrow nocked in one hand, not totally on guard but not relaxed, either. She had seen a couple of wolves on the way to town yesterday, and she wanted to be ready in case she was attacked. A rustling of leaves made her turn and aim the bow, instinctively taking hold of the arrow and string, ready to pull back; but she smiled and lowered the weapon. It was the fox.

"You're an odd one," Selene remarked. "Most foxes won't have anything to do with people. Well, come on." The fox didn't move. "Suit yourself," she said with a shrug and moved on with the fox following at a safe distance.

A watchtower near the barrow and the area outside the crypt were crawling with bandits. She had to fight the two guards at the tower, but she took the three at the barrow from a distance without being detected. Except for the stink that always came with such a tomb, the barrow itself was easy, just a couple more bandits and a dozen draugr. Selene didn't mind fighting draugr. They were stupid and fairly easy to kill, little more than target practice. Every once in a while she came upon what she liked to call a "deathlord," and they were much tougher than their weaker cousins. Fortunately she didn't run into any deathlords in Bleak Falls Barrow, and she made it to the sarcophagus where the Dragonstone was located without too much effort—a welcome change from yesterday. The coffin sat on a platform in the shadow of a large, curved wall. A draugr sat up and Selene shot it, but it still came. She drew another arrow, aimed and shot as it stalked toward her wielding an ancient blade. If it got much closer, she would have to drop the bow and draw her sword, but it finally dropped to the floor with the third arrow.

As she climbed the stairs toward the coffin, Selene heard chanting. She spun around, her eyes scanning every corner of the room, but there was no one there but her. After a moment she realized the chanting was coming from the wall behind the sarcophagus. Curious, she walked toward the wall. It was as if the wall was calling to her. The chanting became louder as she approached it, and though the words weren't in the Nord language, she understood the glyphs carved there.

_HET NOK FaaL VahLOK  
DeiNMaaR DO DOVAahGOLZ  
ahRK aaN FUS DO UNSLaaD  
RahGOL ahRK VULOM _

_Here lies the guardian  
Keeper of Dragonstone  
And a FORCE of unending  
Rage and darkness_

As she read, the world around her darkened and faded away except for one word. _Fus—force_—glowed insistently, and the word rang in her head. Selene stood for what seemed like an eternity, mesmerized by the glowing word and the sound in her head, until she was startled into awareness when the chanting became a triumphant song. "Ja! Ja! Ja! Ja!" the hidden choir sang. The world returned abruptly, and Selene gasped for breath, the air slow to return to her lungs. She stared at the wall, trying to piece together what had happened and waiting to see if it would do anything else, but it remained still and silent. She finally tore herself away and went to find the Dragonstone, which lay in the empty sarcophagus. She picked the tablet up and stuffed it in her knapsack, then looked for an exit.

She met the fox on the way back to Whiterun. "You know, people are gonna talk if we keep meeting like this." She retrieved another piece of meat from her pack and held it out for the fox, who came up and took it without hesitation. She still ran back quickly, but she stuck close, just out of reach, and stopped at the circle of bushes, afraid to go any closer to town. "I'll see you soon, little one," Selene said as she went on her way.

When she arrived back at Dragonsreach, it was close to dinnertime, and the scent of food permeated the air of the great hall. Selene was going to have to break down and go back to the Bannered Mare when she left. She didn't have much meat and cheese left, and it was starting to get old anyway. Maybe Hulda wouldn't still be upset that Selene had gotten into a fight in her inn. After all, Vilkas had said she was used to it.

Farengar was accompanied by a woman wearing leather armor and a hood, which covered her face. Maybe a head covering was required in the wizard's office. Nobody had said anything to her, though, so who knew? The two hooded figures were talking about a book that lay open on the desk and some research Farengar was doing. He looked up and saw Selene, and his face lit up.

"Ah, you're back! And in one piece, I see. Do you have the Dragonstone?"

Selene reached into her knapsack and pulled out the Dragonstone. As she handed him the heavy tablet, Irileth came into the room behind her. "The jarl needs to see you right away, Farengar." Turning to Selene, she said, "You should come, too. A dragon has been seen outside of town."

A terrible weight settled on Selene's chest as the words sank in. She had figured she would see the dragon again; she just hadn't thought it would be so soon. Hopefully the guards were better at fighting dragons than they were at keeping rabble out of the palace. Hands shaking and heart hammering, she followed Irileth and Farengar upstairs to the war room, where Balgruuf was talking to the guard who had seen the creature.

"Go get some rest, son," the jarl told the guard. "You've earned it." He turned to Selene. "Irileth and the guards will go to the Western Watchtower to slay the dragon, and I want you to go with them."

"Me? Why?"

"News travels fast in Whiterun. I've already heard stories about how you helped the Companions take on a giant, and with your attitude, I feel you can handle yourself. You're also the only one who has any experience with dragons."

"But I was just—" she stopped midsentence and with a trembling voice said, "yes, my lord," mentally kicking herself for not telling the jarl where he could shove his dragon. Not having to face it would be worth a night or two in jail.

Against Farengar's wishes, Balgruuf bade the wizard to stay at the palace. He warned Irileth to proceed with caution, and then the housecarl led Selene outside and through town. After a pep talk at the guard station just inside the gate, they were off.

At first there was nothing, just the damaged watchtower and a few shaken guards. It wasn't long, though, before they heard the howl and felt the bracing wind as the great, hulking beast flew overhead. Selene felt incredible relief when she realized it wasn't the black dragon that had attacked Helgen. This one was much smaller, with golden-brown scales and lighter eyes. Why in the world she felt relief, she couldn't say. After all, this meant that there were _two_ dragons instead of one. But the black dragon was the stuff of nightmares, and this one was just a big, ugly monster. She had killed big, ugly monsters before. She steeled herself and drew her bow.

The guards pelted the dragon with arrows, and it screamed in pain. Irileth shouted something about aiming for its soft underbelly, and Selene did so when it flew over. Her arrow hit, and the dragon shrieked and spat fire at her. She managed to duck behind part of the toppled tower and avoid being hit by the worst of the blast, and she cowered behind the stone, her breath coming in panicked gasps. _Just_ a big, ugly monster? What was she thinking? The jarl said she had experience with dragons, but that experience had entailed running away, not shooting at it. How in Kyne's name was she supposed to fight this thing? Why was all this happening? And why in Oblivion did she have to be right in the middle of it?

But Selene was no coward. She couldn't hide behind this tower while the guards stood fast; her pride wouldn't allow it. She could sit there and ponder "why me?" until the sun blinked out of existence, but it wouldn't change anything. "Why" didn't matter; it just was. Thus, with her heart lodged firmly in her throat, she nocked an arrow and emerged. She aimed at the dragon, waiting for it to come close enough to shoot again, but it didn't make it to her. With an agonized scream, it crashed a few yards from her position. She walked over to it with her arrow trained on it, and it eyed her balefully. It was breathing just as hard as she was, in pain and terrified, but she couldn't afford to feel sympathy for it. If they didn't kill it, it would kill them.

There was more to it, though. As she and the dragon looked at each other, a sense of calm washed over her. Standing here face to face with this dragon felt...right. She understood why now, knew it as surely as she knew her own name, and she was pretty sure the dragon knew it, too. She was meant to kill it. It was her job. She pulled the bowstring back and loosed the arrow.

When it hit, the dragon raised up and spread its wings, throwing its head back and wailing. "_Dovahkiin,_ no!" it cried before flopping over with a loud _THUMP_.

Selene crept slowly toward it, nocking another arrow in case the thing was still alive, but it was very dead. As the others started to gather round, the dragon seemed to catch fire. It burned from the inside out, but there was no smoke. Instead, a swirl of orange light and warmth descended on Selene. With it came a sense of presence, as though she wasn't alone in her head. It was as though the dragon was with her, its consciousness infusing hers, all its fear, agony, and wisdom; and she could no longer help feeling sympathy for it. No, not _it. Him._ He was part of her now. She still couldn't grasp what had happened, but she understood his rage, terror, confusion after being awakened so abruptly. Awakened? What did that mean? Had he been asleep, hibernating for thousands of years? The strong presence faded after a moment, but it was still there, deep in her psyche, waiting. But waiting for what? And was she just imagining the whole thing?

"You," said one of the guards. "Dragonborn!"

"Dragon-what?" she asked in perplexity.

"You absorbed its very soul! My mother used to talk about legends of the Dragonborn, a warrior who had the blood of a dragon. He—she—could absorb the souls of dragons she killed and use those souls to Shout in their language."

Shout? Could that be what she had learned from the word wall? _Fus..._ Was that what he meant? She had understood the other words as well, the epitaph of the draugr that guarded the Dragonstone.

"I absorbed its soul? That's—"

"Impossible? See if it works. Try to Shout."

Selene reached deep down, trying to reconnect with the dragon, still not sure if what she felt was real or if it was just her imagination. _Is that what that was?_ she asked it. _Did I absorb your soul? Can you teach me that Shout?_ The dragon's presence strengthened, and the word rang in her head. _Fus..._ And she understood. The word was part of her as well, not just knowledge but a sense of being and overwhelming strength and power. She was the embodiment of force.

_"Fus!"_ she Shouted. Air burst forth from her lungs along with a thundering boom just like the black dragon had thrown so many people off their feet with. It wasn't as strong, but it didn't matter. It was a Shout in the dragon language.

The guards gasped and bowed their heads in reverence. "Oh, don't do that," she pleaded.

"Dragonborn," several of them gasped.

Irileth stepped in. "I don't know about this Dragonborn business. I have no need for some mythical figure. All I know is that we can kill them, and you were valuable in the fight."

"Irileth, you just don't understand," one of the guards argued.

"She doesn't need to understand," said Selene, feeling a bit drained now that the power had been released.

"We'll stay here and clean up," Irileth told her. "You get back to Dragonsreach and inform the jarl."

"I'm off." Before she left, Selene went to the dragon and wrestled a bone from it, feeling the need to keep a trophy. There weren't many scales left, but she picked one of those up as well and started back toward the city.

She was just passing the stables when an earthquake hit. The ground shook violently, knocking her off her feet and sending the horses fleeing in terror. The carriage driver who sat ready to ferry travelers to any of the hold cities had to fight with his horse to keep her from doing the same. But the most disturbing thing about the quake wasn't the ground shaking; it was the call, which resounded through the air and smarted her ears. "_DOVAHKIIN!"_

It was over as suddenly as it began, and Selene exchanged a bewildered glance with the carriage driver as she picked herself up and brushed herself off.

"What in Oblivion was that?" he wondered.

Selene shrugged. "I don't know, but let's hope it doesn't happen again." She made her way through the city on the way to the palace, wondering if coming to Skyrim had been such a good idea. The two short days since she had come back had been an utter nightmare, and her mission to Riften was looking more and more like it just wasn't worth it. Maybe after she told the jarl about the dragon, she would head back to the border and get out before anything else happened.

She stopped as she passed Jorrvaskr and looked up at the mead hall, which looked for all the world like a capsized ship, and thought of its denizens. All of them that she had met, save one, had seemed honorable and had encouraged her to join them. There wasn't much honor in the world these days, and so many of them in one place intrigued her. Vilkas said there was no safer place in Skyrim. Safety was an illusion, but when she looked up at the sprawling, oddly shaped building, Selene felt comfortable. Besides, she was lonely. Maybe she could find something there that she didn't even know she was looking for. Her trip, whether it was to Riften or back to Cyrodiil, could wait a while. She would see what the Companions held for her. But first, she had business to tend to. She tore herself away from the mead hall and headed up to Dragonsreach.

The jarl was concerned about the attack, but thrilled they had slain it. "You did well, and you shall be rewarded. By my right as jarl, I name you Thane of Whiterun. You will have the right to purchase property within our city, and I grant you a personal housecarl and this weapon from my armory. I'll also inform the guards of your new position. Wouldn't want them to think of you as the common rabble, now, would we?"

Did he just give her a title? The possibility staggered Selene. Last night she slept in bushes, and now she was a noble. She didn't really know what a Thane was, but it would be nice not to have the guards giving her the fisheye when she walked past. "Thank you, my jarl."

"See my steward when you're ready to purchase a home."

"There's more, Jarl. When we killed the dragon, something happened to me. The guards said I had absorbed its soul."

Balgruuf's eyes widened. "That must explain the Greybeards' call. If you absorbed its soul, you're _Dovahkiin,_ Dragonborn."

"You're saying that call was for me?"

"Aye. High Hrothgar, the Greybeards' monastery, is at the top of the Throat of the World. They practice the Way of the Voice, and they never leave their monastery. They're isolated from the world, and if they took notice of you and summoned you to them, that's a sign that cannot be ignored. Get up to High Hrothgar and talk to them. No doubt they'll want to train you to use the Voice."

"Wait. Don't I have some say in this?"

"Of course, you do," he replied. "No one will force you to climb the Seven Thousand Steps, but this is a great honor, Selene. If you're truly Dragonborn, it's also a great responsibility."

Selene nodded and turned to leave Dragonsreach. A woman met her just inside the door. She was slim and pretty, but she looked tough, hard.

"Greetings, my Thane. I'm Lydia, your housecarl."

"Good. Maybe you can explain all this to me. What's a Thane, and what's a housecarl?"

"'Thane' is mainly an honorary title. The court is at your disposal, and the guards will look the other way if you commit a crime. As your housecarl, I'm sworn to protect you and your home."

"Hmm. At this point, I don't have a home, and I don't know that I need protection."

Lydia nodded. "I will be here at the palace or in the guards' barracks if you change your mind."

"Thanks, Lydia." Selene left the palace and descended the steps to the Wind District, where she stood again at the foot of the steps leading up to Jorrvaskr. It was an imposing building, but to her it seemed friendly, welcoming. Selene knew that with any type of organization like this, there would be rules, hierarchy, and order. Could she adhere to such a structure? She was so used to being on her own, making her own rules, and ignoring the law. She didn't know if she could toe the line as she would be required to do in the Companions.

But she hadn't had a home since she was five years old. Honorhall didn't count because it was no home. It was a prison. Perhaps she could find a home here. If not, she could always leave. She ascended the steps and opened the door.

* * *

Characters and settings c. 2011 Bethesda Softworks LLC


	3. An Orphan's Tale 3: Alone

An Orphan's Tale 3

Alone

Selene walked through the door into a sprawling room with a fire pit surrounded on three sides by a big, U-shaped table and space at either end of the hall for socializing or resting. The crowd gathered at one end didn't appear to be resting, though; they were watching a fight. Then again, maybe this was how the Companions relaxed. Njada duked it out with a male dark elf as the others egged one or the other on. They were pretty evenly matched, but it appeared Njada had the advantage. Selene watched the bout, which carried on for several minutes, until a rough-looking Nord noticed her and came over.

He was about fifty years old, and he'd seen his share of battle, as was evidenced by a nasty scar on his face and across his blind eye. He was downright scary as he looked her over critically and grimaced. "You lost?"

"I was told to see Kodlak about joining the Companions."

"Don't get your hopes up."

"Don't jump to conclusions."

"Kodlak is downstairs. He's a good judge of character; perhaps he'll see something I don't." He turned his back and continued watching the fracas.

Selene looked around for stairs, but she didn't see any. She caught sight of Farkas, who was standing across the room, watching her instead of the fight. "Stairs?" she mouthed silently.

He pointed to the south end of the hall, and Selene found them and descended. At the bottom, she walked through a door into a long, wide corridor. Vilkas sat with an older, gray-bearded man in an office at the end. He was confiding to the man about problems he was having with "the blood." When he noticed Selene, he stopped talking.

The older man, whom Selene assumed was Kodlak, looked up and said, "A newcomer to Jorrvaskr. What can I do for you, my dear?"

"I would like to join the Companions."

"Would you, now? Let's have a look at you." He looked her over, nodded, and said she had strength of spirit.

"Master, you can't be considering allowing this one to join the Companions."

"I'm nobody's master, Vilkas, and we can always use new members. A test of strength won't hurt. Take her out to the yard and see how she does with a blade."

Vilkas sighed and nodded, then got up and bade Selene to follow him.

"What was that?" she asked him as they walked down the corridor. "Last night you encouraged me to come to Jorrvaskr."

"It's my job to be skeptical. Kodlak looks for reasons to let you in; I look for reasons not to. So don't give me any." He stopped at the door to the stairs and studied her. He almost seemed to be smelling her. "I must admit you seem pretty tired," he said finally. "If you need to rest, we can do this tomorrow."

"Don't coddle me, Vilkas. I think I have one more fight in me before I collapse."

"One _more_? Lass, I'm beginning to think you're as bad as Njada."

"For your information, I spent my day doing battle with draugr and dragons, not snot-nosed bullies."

Vilkas furrowed his brow. "D-did you just say dragons?"

"Didn't you hear? A dragon attacked the Western Watchtower."

"A dragon!" he repeated, placing a hand on the door as if to hold himself up. "They were talking about the one that destroyed Helgen last night at the Mare, but I didn't hear much and thought it was just a tall tale. Now I don't know what to think. How...how can it be?"

"I don't know; it just is. I went out with Irileth and some guards and killed it."

"Irileth. Gods damn it!" he snarled, pounding his fist on the door furiously.

"What?"

"It's just like her to conveniently forget to tell the Companions the city is in danger. She didn't have us informed because she didn't want us to take her glory."

"If it makes you feel any better, I think I'm the one who got the glory on that one."

"How so?"

A bit embarrassed, she told him about absorbing the dragon's soul and the Shout.

He stared at her for a long moment, probably trying to decide whether or not to believe her. "Well, well. Yesterday it was giants; today it's dragons. Let's see how you do with a man wielding a sword."

"After all that, I don't know if I can handle a regular person."

Vilkas chuckled and opened the door for her.

It was just a quick sparring match, and Vilkas was a far better swordsman than Selene could ever hope to be, but she held her own. He finally sheathed his sword and said, "You need training, but you've got a good arm. You can stay, but to us you're still just a whelp."

"That doesn't sound good."

"We all have to prove ourselves. Here. Take my sword up to the Skyforge for sharpening. And be careful with it. It's probably worth more than you are. I need to go tell Kodlak about the dragon. Damn that Irileth." He stalked away, muttering and swearing.

Eorland Gray-Mane was at least seventy years old, but he was nearly as muscular as some of the Companions, having worked the Skyforge all his life. The crotchety blacksmith was just leaving when Selene reached the forge, but he reluctantly made time to take Vilkas's sword.

"I must get home," he said. "My wife is in mourning and I've left her too long."

"What happened?"

"Our son is missing. Reports all say he is dead, but Fralia does not believe them. She mourns because it is right to do so, but she is convinced he still lives."

"Surely there's a way to find out."

Eorland didn't reply, just grunted and picked up a shield that was leaning against the forge. "Since you are going back to Jorrvaskr, can you take this shield to Aela for me? I stayed late working on it; she should have it this evening."

"Of course." Selene took the shield and headed back to the mead hall. She found Aela shut away in a room in an intimate conversation with Skjor, but she gratefully accepted the shield.

"I hear you gave Vilkas quite a go," she remarked. "Do you think you could take him in a real battle?"

"Doubtful. But I wouldn't make it easy on him."

"What do you do?" Skjor asked her.

"I'm an archer and a brawler. I'm pretty good at hiding, too. I'm okay with the sword, but I could use some training." She neglected to mention that she was a fabulous thief. Somehow she didn't think Skjor would be impressed with that.

"Sounds like you and Aela will get on well."

"You look exhausted," said Aela. "I'll have Farkas show you where you can get some rest."

"Farkas!" Skjor called.

Farkas appeared in the door a moment later. "Did you call me?"

"Of course we did, Icebrain," Aela sneered. "Show the new blood here the dormitory."

Selene followed him out the door and down the hall.

"I'm glad you decided to come here," he said. "I hope you stay."

"I'll stay awhile. I mentioned that I was on my way to Riften, but I decided to see what you were all about." She wondered to herself whether she had meant the Companions in general or Farkas specifically.

They arrived at the dorm. "I don't think anybody is using that bed in the corner. Get some rest, and tell Tilma when you're ready to wash up and she'll have one of the other whelps bring some water for a bath. Come see me tomorrow, and I'll have work for you."

"Thanks, Farkas." He nodded and walked back down the hall, and Selene went to the bed in the corner and stretched out, glad no one else was around at the moment. She ached straight to the bone, but her body wasn't the only thing that was tired. Her brain was overloaded, and socializing was the last thing she wanted to do right now.

Dragonborn. Thane. Companion. It was enough to make one's head spin. It was her own fault, of course. She'd had the opportunity to flee Skyrim, but she had chosen to open the door to Jorrvaskr. Now she was committed. Well, not _totally_ committed; she had told Farkas she'd only stay awhile. She could get out if she wanted to. But being Dragonborn wasn't just a job or a title. It was who she was, _what_ she was, and she knew in her heart there was no denying it, no ignoring it, and no running from it. Whether she dealt with it here or ran away to Cyrodiil, she would have to come to terms with it sooner or later. The woman with Farengar had said dragons had returned. _Dragons_, plural. Selene had realized there were more than one today at the watchtower, but it only now sank in that even more would come her way. For now, at least, she had a place to rest, to catch her breath, get some training, and maybe find some peace.

Peace. That was a laugh. Selene wasn't even sure she knew what the word meant.

As she started to drift, she said a prayer to Kynareth, asking for the next day to please, please, be less eventful. She was asleep almost before she finished the prayer.

* * *

The next day _was_ uneventful, as was the day after that and the next few weeks. Selene went on several missions, usually alone but occasionally with a shield-brother. The fox followed her everywhere, eventually even into town, and Selene started calling her Liska. After a while, Kodlak gave her permission to keep Liska in the mead hall, and most everybody seemed to like her. Even Njada would scratch her behind the ears or pick her up and hold her in her lap. Liska was the tamest fox Selene had ever seen, and she began to realize she had been someone else's pet before, probably from the time she was a kit.

Selene spent a lot of time training with the senior members. She wouldn't have thought she needed archery training, but Aela helped her increase her skill immensely. Vilkas and Farkas trained her with the sword, often working together to help her practice fighting multiple opponents. She tried training hand-to-hand with Njada, but the sessions usually turned into real brawls, so they decided to just avoid any sort of combat with each other for the time being. Instead, she worked with Athis, the Dunmer Njada had been fighting when Selene had entered Jorrvaskr for the first time. She also did a lot of drinking. After all, she did live in a mead hall, and after a hard day of training there was always good food, mead, and friends to socialize with. Although Selene didn't get really close to any of them, she did enjoy their company. She even had a nice, drunken heart-to-heart with Njada ("Oh, I love you!" "I love you, too! Let's not be enemies anymore." "Okay, you're my best friend!"). Although when they sobered up they were still far from best friends, it was good not to feel alone for a change.

She never showed it outwardly, but Selene nurtured a healthy crush on Farkas. When he wasn't badgering her relentlessly in the training yard, he was sweet, thoughtful, and generous with praise and encouragement. Some of the others teased him about not being smart, but he didn't seem all that unintelligent to Selene. He didn't talk well, but that didn't mean there wasn't a lot going on in his head. He just didn't feel the need to share it.

Everything about living at Jorrvaskr was great except for Vilkas and Skjor, who insisted on calling her a whelp, and most of the time they treated her like one as well. Vilkas ordered her around, and Skjor criticized everything she did, even down to the armor she wore and how she did her hair. It seemed she couldn't do anything to please them, and it got on her nerves. She complained to Farkas once when they were on a mission together and he asked how she was fitting in.

He shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about it," he said. "They just want you to be your best. Besides, it's a rite of passage."

"Farkas, he complains about my _hair_ for Kyne's sake!"

"It's really long, and you wear it in a ponytail. It's beautiful, but it makes a good handhold for an enemy. Vilkas and Skjor actually think quite a lot of you. Most of the other whelps don't even get to go on missions yet."

Everything after "beautiful" was a blur, but Selene realized she'd better make some sort of response. "I know. Torvar bellyaches every time I go out and he doesn't."

"You're a better fighter than Torvar, more experienced, even though you're younger."

A distant howl drifted through the air, and Selene's heart skipped a beat. Liska, who had been following, barked a sharp alarm and darted behind a rock.

"Did you hear that?" Farkas asked.

"I did," she murmured, barely above a whisper. "Kynareth protect us." Tears threatened her eyes as the next howl came closer, but she blinked them back. She had known the day would come when she would see another one, and she'd had weeks to prepare and improve her skills. Besides, Farkas was with her.

Farkas's jaw dropped as the dragon came into view over the next hill. "By Ysmir. I didn't want to believe it." He drew his bow and nocked an arrow, and Selene did the same.

"The scales are softer and sparser on the underside. And its head, of course." She moved off the road toward some boulders so they would have a place to duck when it started to breathe fire. Farkas followed.

The bow trembled in Selene's hands as the dragon flew over them, screeching and howling. She saw Farkas's chest heave; he was just as scared as she was. Then again, who wouldn't be? When it came close enough, she loosed an arrow and quickly pulled another one. The arrow missed, as did Farkas's, and the dragon took a breath and Shouted.

_ "Fo...krah diin!"_

They ducked behind the rock to shelter themselves from the flames, but there were no flames. Instead, it breathed a spate of frost and snow. It was uncomfortable, but at least they could fight through it. They shot another round of arrows at it. Selene's arrow hit, but Farkas missed.

"I'm shite with a bow," he complained. "If we can get it on the ground..."

The dragon's howls changed, and Selene knew it was injured. Blood trailed behind it as it wobbled, dipped, then recovered to soar back into the sky.

"Another arrow or two should do it," she said. When the wyrm flew back over, it stopped and hovered, preparing to spray more frost at them, and Selene took careful aim. She managed to lodge the arrow in the shoulder joint, rendering its right wing useless. It screamed and dropped to the ground.

Farkas drew his sword and approached the dragon, as did Selene. He took several swings at the monster, and it retaliated by snapping viciously at him.

"Don't get so close to its teeth!" Selene cried. She dashed around to the dragon's right side and stuck her blade in the meaty part of its chest, then noticed that Farkas had managed to climb up on its head and straddle its neck.

The creature shook its head desperately, trying to throw Farkas off, but he held on tightly with his knees. "You will not defeat me, _Grohiik!_" the dragon growled, but it shrieked in agony as Farkas planted his blade through its nose and pinned its mouth shut.

With one more jab from Selene, the dragon gave up and fell dead. Farkas removed his sword and climbed down just in time for it to burst into flames.

This one was a female, and her name was Komeytniidaaz. Her fear and frustration spread through Selene like a cold chill, even as the warmth of the flames covered her body. She stood and stared at the carcass for a while, communing with the dragon, embracing her. As Komeytniidaaz's essence faded, she whispered her name again and then reduced to a vague presence at the back of Selene's consciousness.

She looked over at Farkas, who was staring at her, eyes wide, and her heart sank. It was going to be like this every time she absorbed a dragon's soul: the stares, the wonder, the reverence. She didn't want that kind of attention, especially from him. "Please don't look at me like that."

"I'm sorry. It's just...it's true."

Selene nodded. "It's true. But stop it, okay? I'm the same person I was an hour ago."

Farkas closed his eyes and shook his head to clear it. "Of course, you are. I won't do it again, I promise. Let's get going, whelp." He even went so far as to mess up her hair, and Selene slapped his hand away playfully, untied the ponytail and put it back up.

"I'm not cutting my hair," she muttered.

"Okay, but when some bandit grabs ahold of it and flings you across a cave, don't come whining to me."

Selene flipped her middle finger at him, and he laughed. She pulled a bone and scale from Komeytniidaaz, in addition to a ruby and about fifty gold pieces, and then they went on their way. Liska came out from behind her rock and sniffed at the skeleton, then followed, cooing and gekkering.

"What do you think all that means?" Farkas said, nodding to the little fox.

"I'm sure she's telling us how great we are," Selene replied.

As they walked along, Farkas began to chuckle.

"What's so funny?"

"Vilkas likes to say he's killed one of every different type of creature in Skyrim. Well, not _every_ one."

"And you've killed one that he hasn't."

"He's not gonna believe us, you know."

"Somehow I don't think it'll be long until he sees a dragon, himself."

"You think there are more?"

"I've killed two and seen one other. I doubt there were only three."

"What's it like?" he asked curiously. "Absorbing its soul, I mean."

Selene sighed sadly. Things wouldn't be the same now. No matter what he said, Farkas would no longer just be her shield-brother, her adolescent crush. He would be one of those who looked at her like she was different, which, she guessed, she was. She had been alone since Ben's death, and with the Companions, she had thought she might have found a home, a family. But as Dragonborn, she knew she would _always_ be alone.

* * *

Characters and settings c. 2011 Bethesda Softworks LLC


	4. An Orphan's Tale 4: Beauty and the Beast

An Orphan's Tale 4

Beauty and the Beast

Farkas was full of questions after Selene absorbed Komeytniidaaz's soul, and every query drove the wedge farther between them. She felt like an artifact, a curiosity at some museum, on display for the public to gawk at. She couldn't explain that to Farkas; he would never understand. Thus, she patiently answered every question until he couldn't think of anything else to ask. Though she hoped he would just let it go, he told Vilkas and Kodlak about the encounter as soon as they arrived back at Jorrvaskr, and pretty soon the story was all over. Selene answered the barrage of questions again, but even after they were done asking, they still looked at her funny.

"It's your imagination," Vilkas commented one afternoon as they trained. The comment came out of the blue with no preamble whatsoever.

"What's my imagination?"

"You think people look at you differently now that they know you're Dragonborn."

"How could you possibly—"

"Because you look at _them_ differently. Watch your footing. When you're swinging a heavy weight around your head, the wrong foot placement will throw your balance off." Selene adjusted her footing and stepped toward him again, but he said, "Stop. Don't move." He kicked at her right leg, sending her teetering off balance. "You have two feet; use them both." Selene growled in frustration, and he said, "You also have too much on your mind. You're feeling alone, isolated. You worry about what the others think, and I would guess you're not used to that. When we're here in the yard, and when I have a blade pointed at you, you can't be thinking about something else."

"That's easy for you to say. You don't understand what it's like to have this kind of weight suddenly thrust upon your shoulders."

He looked her earnestly in the eye. "I understand better than you others understand better than you think, as well. Even if we didn't, you'd still have to learn to put it out of your mind. If you let your mind wander during a battle, you could get yourself or someone else killed."

Vilkas didn't move or even look away, and Selene she saw something she hadn't noticed before: pain. She had never been this close to him, and she had always mistaken his aloof, officious manner for arrogance. As for his temper, she had just written that off to bad mood. But like his brother, there was a lot more going on behind those clear, gray eyes than people thought. There was deep-seated sadness and anger, and he held onto it possessively, sharing his feelings with no one, even Farkas. But he had learned to use his anger, to channel it into his fighting to become one of the greatest warriors the Companions had ever known.

After what seemed like forever, he broke his stare. "All right, then, back to business. Your footing."

* * *

Selene had taken an interest in Talos. She knew so little about him, but many of the people of Whiterun secretly worshiped him. Heimskr, of course, was an authority on the man turned god, and Selene talked to him a lot.

She had been visiting with the priest when Skjor caught her on the way back into Jorrvaskr. "The time has come to prove yourself, new blood. We've discovered the location of one of the fragments of Wuuthrad, the battleaxe Ysgramor wielded when he and the first five hundred Companions settled Skyrim. You're going to go to Dustman's Cairn to get it. Farkas will be your shield-brother, so go to him with any questions."

Things had been a little tense with Farkas since they had killed the dragon together. Although Selene knew Vilkas understood, she still felt the others set her apart, Farkas included, and she kept her distance. She sat at the table and drank with them, but she refrained from any personal interactions. Poor Farkas didn't understand it. He would try to talk to her, but she would make an excuse and walk away, leaving him standing there with a bewildered look on his face. The trip to Dustman's Cairn was quiet, Farkas having given up trying to engage her in conversation. Even Liska remained silent as she walked between them. Selene missed her interactions with Farkas, and she missed the way he smiled at her. After several hours of silence, she couldn't stand it anymore.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Farkas stopped. "I thought we were friends."

"We are. It's just that you see me differently now."

"Where'd you come up with a crazy idea like that?"

"After the dragon."

He looked at her in confusion for a moment, and then realization dawned on his face. "Oh, that. I don't know what you think you're seeing, but I don't look at you different. I don't care about that Dragonborn stuff. Yeah, it's really exciting, but you were Dragonborn before I met you, and my knowing about it didn't change you."

Selene had to shake her head. Sometimes even the simplest concepts baffled Farkas, but then he would say something that intimated a deep and abiding wisdom. "But the way you acted that day" –

"It was new. I just had to get used to it."

With the tension relieved, Selene felt more relaxed than she had the day she killed the dragon, and she was hopeful that life would get back to normal. _Normal._ She had been with the Companions just over a month, and she was already starting to entertain the concept of stability. Then they arrived at Dustman's Cairn, and the gods decided to have more fun with her. In a cavernous altar room, Selene pulled a lever and got locked in an antechamber, then watched helplessly as Farkas was accosted by a half-dozen bandits. She knew she was about to watch him die. There was no way he could defeat them all. But she was wrong.

Farkas had said his knowledge that she was Dragonborn didn't change her because she had already been Dragonborn when he found out. She tried to keep that in mind as she watched his body contort, grow to tremendous size, and sprout fur. It was even harder to remember when he let loose a feral howl and obliterated the bandits in a few, brief seconds. Ysmir's beard, he was a _werewolf!_ It never occurred to her to be afraid of him. Werewolves were hated and feared throughout Tamriel, monsters that killed unwary travelers and ate their hearts. But this one was Farkas, and he didn't seem like the mindless creature that killed indiscriminately. He knew what he was doing when he killed those bandits, and he didn't eat anybody's heart. Selene knew instinctively that he wasn't a danger to her. Besides, she was too fascinated to worry about him attacking her.

"Hope I didn't scare you," he said when he changed back and let her out of the cell.

"Are you joking? That was amazing! I thought you were a goner, and then you just—you just—you're a werewolf!" Realization dawned on her, and the fear finally seeped in and she gasped. "By the Eight, if I become a Companion, I'll have to become—"

"Oh, no. Only members of the Circle have the Beastblood. It's not something you need to worry about. Eyes on the prey, not the horizon. Right now, we have the draugr, and we'll have to keep an eye out for more Silver Hand."

"Silver Hand?"

"Those weren't ordinary bandits. The Silver Hand has been enemies of the Companions forever, and there may be more of them farther in the crypt."

"Do you think they brought us the news of Wuuthrad to lure us here? I find it hard to believe they just happened to be in this barrow the same time we were."

Farkas raised an eyebrow. "Hmm, I didn't even think of that. It doesn't matter anyway. It's us or them, so they have to die."

They fought more Silver Hand and even more draugr as they went through the labyrinth of tunnels and chambers, splitting up gold, gems, and weapons as they found them, before ultimately finding the room containing Wuuthrad, along with about twenty draugr and a word wall. As she read the epitaph of a child king who was burned alive by a dragon named Lodunost, the aura of the wall enveloped her and spoke the word, _"Yol."_ The chanting and victorious song rang in her head, and Komeytniidaaz called to her from deep in her soul. _"Yol,"_ the dragon whispered, and Selene understood its meaning, how it was now part of her, and how to tap into it. The spell finally broken, she became aware that Farkas was watching.

"What was that?" he asked, awestruck.

"Watch." She turned away from him, gathered the fire within, and Shouted, _"Yol!"_ and a blast of flame burst forth, incinerating the corpse of a nearby draugr. Selene was afraid to look back at her shield-brother, knowing he was giving her that look, the look of admiration, of reverence. But then he made everything better.

"Too bad you didn't have that _before_ we fought all those draugr."

Liska greeted them when they emerged from the barrow, gekkering and squealing as they got back on the road for home. After a while, Selene asked, "What's it like? Shifting to Beast Form, I mean."

Farkas laughed.

"What is it?"

"I said those exact, same words after you absorbed that dragon's soul."

"But you had to know I'd have a dozen questions."

"I did. Now do you see?"

Of course. She wasn't so different after all, at least not as far as the Companions were concerned. They did understand, and none of them looked at her funny because they were long used to their fellows having special powers. Warmth and glee flooded through Selene, and she actually giggled. Liska chittered and rubbed against her leg as if to say, "I'm glad you finally get it." She picked the fox up and snuggled her, and Liska licked her face.

"I'll take that as a yes. Shifting hurts, but not as bad as you'd think. Or maybe I'm just used to it. But this power just comes over you, and it's like...like...I don't know how to describe it. It's just really...powerful."

"What can you do?"

"Our sense of smell, our hearing, our night vision, all of them are better, even in human form. We're prone to shift on the full moon; you probably knew that already. Some of us can control it and not shift, but the moons still hold a lot of sway in our lives. We feel a lot more, like emotionally, but we all handle it different. Skjor and Aela spend a lot of time hunting and nurturing their inner wolf, and the spirit of the hunt stays with them even in human form. Kodlak doesn't like that he's a slave to his wolf spirit, and he's trying to find a cure. As werewolves, we're bound to Hircine, and he doesn't like that."

"Why not?"

"When we die, we don't go to Sovngarde. We go to the Hunting Grounds with Hircine. Kodlak doesn't want to do that."

She put Liska down. "What about you?"

"I don't know; it's complicated. I want to go to Sovngarde, but the hunt is..." his voice trailed off, and he shrugged.

"And Vilkas?"

"He has a harder time than the rest of us. He's always been angry, and the Blood just makes his temper worse. While Kodlak's looking for a cure, he's vowed not to give in to the Beastblood, and Vilkas did, too. He's been successful so far, but it's rough on him. I said I wouldn't do it, either, but I finally gave up. It's hard, especially on the full moon."

"If they find a cure, do you think you'll accept it?"

"I don't know. My first thought is to say yes, but that's just because I normally follow Vilkas's lead. But I guess I'll need to make my own decision if the time comes."

"I don't think I'd want the cure," Selene mused.

"I thought you didn't like the thought of being a werewolf."

"That was long ago. I've had time to think about it."

"It was like six hours ago!"

Selene nodded, grinning. "Long time."

Farkas chuckled. "You might feel different if you were a werewolf. The call of the Blood and the lack of control can be a problem. When you shift to Beast Form, you're still you, but you become something else, too. You try to follow human rules, but sometimes you do things that make you feel bad when you return to human form. Sometimes you don't even remember what you did in Beast Form. That doesn't happen much, but it does happen. And sometimes, especially when it's close to the full moon, you have trouble following human rules even as a human. We're warriors, and we're around blood a lot."

"But I've never seen you lose control."

"We've been doing it a long time, and we're good at it, but it's still hard."

"So you're saying I should put becoming a werewolf out of my mind?"

"It's not like it's gonna happen tomorrow or anything, if it _ever_ happens. It's just like me when I found out you were Dragonborn. This is new right now. When you get used to it, it won't seem so exciting."

"Sure, it won't."

* * *

They returned to Whiterun to find the Companions waiting in the training yard. The Inner Circle stood in the yard while the others gathered on the porch. Farkas joined the Circle, and Selene stood before them with Liska sitting at her feet. Kodlak spoke to the assembly.

"Selene was born nineteen years ago, a stone's throw from the very ground on which we stand. Those of us in the Circle can remember her as a small child, playing in her parents' yard. Orphaned at a young age, she was whisked away and spent her formative years on her own, fending for herself and her adoptive brother. Two months ago, she returned to Whiterun and expressed her wish to continue her life's journey with the Companions. In her short time with us, she has shown honor and courage at every turn, and it is my privilege to stand before you today and welcome her into the ranks of our esteemed order. Who will speak for Selene?"

Farkas gave a short speech on her behalf and spoke more eloquently than Selene had ever heard him, and then Kodlak called for a vote from the Circle on whether to allow her to join the Companions as a full shield-sister. Farkas wasn't asked to speak again, as vouching for her counted as a "yes" vote.

"Vilkas, what say you?" Kodlak asked.

"Selene is strong, with a good arm, a fiery spirit and great fortitude. I see much of myself in her and would be honored to call her 'sister.'"

Vilkas's comment caught Selene off guard, and she gaped at him. He peered back, his face impassive. Skjor and Aela also voted yes, giving her praise she didn't think she deserved, and Kodlak said yes and welcomed her officially into the order. Liska squealed and scuttled out of the way as the Inner Circle and the rest of the Companions crowded in with congratulatory hugs and words of encouragement. Vilkas kissed her on the forehead, and even Njada gave her a sisterly embrace. Farkas wrapped his massive arms around her and gave her the best bear hug he could with both of them wearing heavy, steel armor.

"You didn't tell me you knew me when I was little," she said.

"I didn't really. I knew who you were, but I didn't pay much attention. I was like seventeen, and I didn't pay much attention to little kids. I do remember one time you gave flowers to Olfina Gray-Mane."

"I remember that," Aela noted, her face lighting up. "We were all sitting around the Gildergreen; and this tiny, little girl came up, handed Olfina a bunch of weeds, and told her she was pretty. Then she giggled and ran off. I didn't know that was you, though." She laughed with delight. "That's great!"

The revelation that the older Companions knew her as a child was reassuring, a reminder that although she had no real roots, she had originally come from somewhere. Still, Selene couldn't help being conflicted. On the one hand, her heart was filled with joy. Other than with Ben, she had never felt she belonged, and she certainly hadn't felt wanted; but these people enthusiastically accepted her into their fold and called her "sister." They made her feel as if she was part of something important, as if _she_ was important. But Selene was also cautious. In her experience, good things didn't last. They were just a respite in the tribulations of life. Maybe not tomorrow, but eventually something would happen to screw this up. For now, though, she resolved to enjoy it while she could. She could be happy, at least for a while.

When the crowd dispersed, Kodlak came to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Congratulations, girl. It has been a long time since we welcomed someone such as you into our ranks."

"Kodlak, you know my story. You all keep talking about honor, but I've done things that aren't so honorable."

"As have we all. You lived on your own since you were a child, and you did what was needed to survive. That takes a strength of character that few possess."

She shifted her feet uncomfortably and changed the subject. "Something happened while we were at Dustman's Cairn."

"Yes, I can smell the change in Farkas. He let you know things before it was time."

"Maybe he just knew I would understand. I mean, this is wonderful!" Selene laughed. "I don't think I've ever used that word in my life. Sweet Kyne, what is happening to me?"

Kodlak sighed sadly. "That, my dear, is a matter of opinion. Go see Eorland; he will make you a weapon suitable for a Companion. We will have a celebration tonight in your honor."

"Oh, that's not necessary."

"Don't worry. We celebrate the induction of all new Companions."

"Any excuse for a party, right?"

Kodlak chuckled in response. "Aye, lass. Any excuse."

* * *

"So Aela sneaks up on the deer, ready to gut him," Skjor was saying, "and when she gets close enough, he turns around and starts licking off her warpaint."

Selene laughed out loud. "Aela, how did you even get close enough?"

"The only thing we could think was that someone had put a spell on him. He was totally fearless."

"Did you kill him?"

"I didn't have the heart."

"That's saying a lot for Aela," Ria remarked. "She's a vicious hunter."

"Well, not _vicious_," Aela said humbly.

"Vicious," Farkas corrected her.

"What was the name of that elf at the Moorside Inn?" Skjor asked. "The one who was so scared of you."

"Kinaro or something like that. Once he found out I didn't bite, he was quite amicable."

The entire group laughed. "What in Oblivion made him think you didn't bite?" Torvar teased.

The party lasted late into the night, with plenty of food, drink, songs, and stories. The members of the Circle had lived and fought together for a long time, and it seemed nearly every mission involved lots of alcohol and several members of the opposite sex. There was always fighting, hunting, or killing, but there was usually relaxation and socializing afterward. The Companions had been in every inn in Skyrim and were as well-known for their raucous celebrations as their battle prowess.

Farkas stayed close to Selene all evening, occasionally putting his hand on the back of her chair or absently touching her arm or hand. She couldn't help noticing Skjor doing the same with Aela. There had been rumors about the two of them, and Selene guessed they were true. While Vilkas ate and drank with the group, he hardly said a word. After a while, he moved to a side table and drank alone.

"What's up with him?" Selene asked Farkas.

"He does that," he replied with a shrug.

In the wee hours, not long before the people of Whiterun would be getting up and starting their day, the Companions started to drift away and head toward the dormitories. Pretty soon, no one was left in the mead hall but Selene and Farkas.

She giggled tipsily as she got up, ready to head for the dorms as well. "You lot really know how to throw a party."

"Lots of practice," Farkas said. He took her hand before she could get away and pulled her down on his lap.

Selene stroked his cheek, clean and gorgeous without his usual warpaint, and she hoped he didn't notice her hand trembling ever so slightly. As he pulled the leather tie out of her hair and threaded his fingers through the long tresses, she realized he was trembling, too. His silvery eyes gazed into hers as if they were looking into her soul, an act so personal and intimate that she had to look away. He gently but forcibly turned her head back to him, then pulled her closer and placed his mouth on hers. Selene wrapped her arms around his neck as the kiss deepened, and a soft moan escaped her lips as he stroked her back with one hand, the other still firmly entwined in her hair. The room, Jorrvaskr, and the world around her faded as she was swept away by desire. She gasped as Farkas moved his lips to her throat and nibbled hungrily, sending goosebumps down her arms.

"Ungh, you smell so good," he whispered.

With that, Selene realized that with his enhanced senses, he had probably smelled her desire for him from the first time she saw him. She froze, suddenly self-conscious. There were no secrets with Farkas; he always knew what she was feeling. Embarrassed, she tried to back away.

"No," he protested. "Come back." He pulled her toward him and kissed her again, and Selene couldn't resist. She didn't want to. "Stay with me tonight," he beseeched her.

She got up, took his hand, and led him downstairs to his room.

* * *

Selene awoke with her head on Farkas's solid, muscular chest with his powerful arms around her, safe, warm and comfy under several furs. He was mumbling in his sleep, and she propped up on an elbow to watch him. She couldn't catch what he was saying, but his sudden, distinct growl was unmistakable. He tightened his hold on her and turned over quickly, pinning her to the bed. Selene squealed with fright.

He broke into a broad grin. "Hey, there," he said sweetly.

Selene swatted his chest. "You scared the crap out of me!"

"I would never hurt you."

"Farkas, I know next to nothing about the beastblood. For all I knew, you were in some sort of...werewolf trance."

He laughed heartily and slid alongside her. "Werewolf trance? That's adorable."

"I am _not_ adorable."

"You are." He caressed her cheek and leaned in to kiss her, running his rough hands along her back and bottom.

Selene wrapped her arms and legs around him, relishing the feel of his body and trying to ignore the disquiet that was growing in her mind. What was this? Was it just because they were drunk? Was he taking advantage of her because he knew she wanted him? Or was it real? No, it couldn't be real. The thought of being in such a relationship terrified her. One thing was for sure: she was thinking too much.

Farkas broke the kiss. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"You can't lie to me, Selene. Your scent. Something's bothering you."

"I don't know what to think about this."

"I would never hurt you," he repeated. "But you're not ready for anything more, are you?"

Selene shook her head.

"Well, don't worry about the others. They won't think any less of either of us. One, we were drunk. Also, the beast form brings out not only the urge to kill but the urge to mate, too."

"So you just wanted to sleep with me because you gave in to the Beastblood?" she said teasingly.

"Oh, no. Well, partly, but I've wanted you since the day I met you on the road into Whiterun."

"You said not to worry about the others. What about you?"

"You mean will it be awkward between us? No way; I promise. But make love with me again before we go back to the real world."

"Oh, definitely," she said as she reached for him, hoping she was making the right decision.

* * *

Characters and settings c. 2011 Bethesda Softworks LLC


	5. An Orphan's Tale 5: Holy Quest

An Orphan's Tale 5

Holy Quest

The next few weeks were filled with routine, and the structure of the militia didn't bother Selene nearly as much as she had expected. The twins trained her with swords, both one- and two-handed, and they worked with her on fighting multiple opponents and using her armor to protect herself. Aela gave her instruction with the bow. Skjor taught her battle strategy, and Kodlak offered wisdom. He talked a lot about leadership, mentoring, caring for others, taking responsibility for a group, and other topics of that nature. The things he told her made her believe he was preparing her for something, but when she asked about it, all he gave her were vague answers.

She and Farkas didn't sleep together again, but their relationship had taken a turn. Sometimes she would catch him watching her; other times he would catch her. They shared secret smiles, and sometimes he would reach out impulsively and caress her arm or her cheek. They went on missions together, and they had long talks about life, religion, and their hopes and dreams. Often, when they were camping and she was standing guard, she found herself watching him sleep. But Selene had meant it when she told him she wasn't ready to be in love. She still believed that at some point, she would have to leave Jorrvaskr. It would break her heart when it happened, and she didn't want to risk the pain of losing a lover as well, for her _or_ for Farkas.

The others acted as her shield-brothers and sisters as well, most often Vilkas. While she and Farkas talked a lot about personal things, Selene's conversations with Vilkas were usually about intellectual subjects, comparing books they'd read, politics, battle strategy, and survival techniques. He refused to discuss being a werewolf except to say it was a curse and he would do most anything to get out of it. After the time in the training yard when he gave her a glimpse into his soul, he shied away from more intimate lines of conversation. Even so, Selene felt close to him. Oddly, even though he was a better and more experienced fighter than she was, she felt as though she had to protect him. Something tormented him, something deep and long-standing, and she resolved to stand in its way as best she could.

Although she spent most of her time with the Companions, Selene became friendly with some of the other townspeople as well. She adored Belethor, and she believed he had as much fun haggling as she did. She also became friends with Saadia, the lovely Redguard cook in the Bannered Mare. Outwardly, she seemed like a simple bar wench, but there was more to her than met the eye. Her past was shrouded in mystery. At this point, she wasn't talking, but Selene hoped to draw her out eventually.

Spending a lot of time at the Temple of Kynareth, she also got to know Danica Pure-Spring, the priestess. She wasn't really fond of Danica because she tended to whine. She was unhappy having to spend most of her time tending to the sick instead of lifting up joyous praise to her goddess. Selene did develop a grudging respect for her, though, because no matter how unhappy she was, she never faltered in her dedication. Danica was also upset because the Gildergreen, the once-majestic tree that dominated the Wind District, was dying. The Gildergreen, which had grown from a sapling of Eldergleam, which was believed to be a physical manifestation of Kynareth herself, hadn't bloomed in several years, and this year she hadn't even sprouted leaves.

Late in the month of Frostfall, Selene was praying at the shrine when Danica approached her. "I would like to propose something to you," said the priestess in her thick Nordic accent. "I've been thinking of a way to save the Gildergreen, and I may have come up with something. Perhaps some sap from Eldergleam would help. The problem is that Eldergleam is older than metal and not just any sword or dagger will tap it."

"What will you do, then?"

"There is a dagger that a coven of hagravens use to sacrifice spriggans. It's called Nettlebane. I believe the enchantments on the dagger will enable the user to tap into Eldergleam and retrieve some of the sap."

"And you're telling me because..."

"I'm terrified of the hagravens," Danica admitted, "but you're a warrior. Perhaps you'd have enough courage to fight them and retrieve Nettlebane for me."

It briefly occurred to Selene to charge her for the job; after all, she was part of a guild of mercenaries. But this was a mission for her goddess, a holy quest to help repair a sacred symbol of Kyne. "I'll be glad to help," she replied.

"I'm leaving for a couple of days," Selene told Farkas as they sparred in the courtyard the next morning.

"Something wrong?"

"No, no. Danica at the temple has an idea to help bring the Gildergreen back to life. I'm helping by going to Falkreath Hold to get a dagger for her."

"What's the catch?"

"Hagravens."

"Nice."

"Wanna come with me?"

"It's not a good time," he said regretfully. "I've been riding herd on Torvar about his training, and we're finally making some progress, but I still can't trust him to keep up with it while I'm gone. Why don't you ask Vilkas to go with you?"

"I can do that." She found Vilkas in the mead hall, giving advice to Ria. "I have a quest, and I wanted see if you'd like to go with me."

"Perhaps. Where would we be going?"

"I'm retrieving a dagger that might help Danica revive the Gildergreen."

Vilkas gave Ria an apologetic nod. "Of course. Let me pack a few things."

They got on the road early in the afternoon and stopped for the night just outside Helgen. Vilkas built a fire while Selene set up the tent and brought out cooking utensils and food, and then they settled down for dinner. Selene was skittish and jumped at even the smallest sounds from the woods. She let out a startled squeal when Liska came bounding out of the trees with a rat in her teeth, and a bird flying over actually made her scream with fright.

"What's going on with you?" Vilkas finally asked her. "I've never seen you nervous before."

"Too close to Helgen. I can smell the burned homes, the burned..." She closed her eyes and tried to hold her breath, but she could still smell burning bodies and hear the terrible roar of the black dragon.

"It's more than a mile away. It's probably just your imagination. Still, perhaps we should move, eh? Maybe it'll make you feel better."

Selene shook her head. "No. No, I'll be fine. It was months ago; I just have to get over it."

"How do you get over something like that?"

"It's amazing what you can get over if given enough time."

Vilkas grunted and changed the subject, engaging her in conversation about a book he was reading. The mundane discussion helped get her mind off Helgen, and soon she was feeling like her old self again. When she lay her head down for the night, however, the ghosts were waiting for her.

She awoke to screaming and Vilkas shaking her shoulders. "Selene, you're just dreaming. Wake up!"

"No!" she shrieked, and she realized the screams were hers.

"It's all right. It's just a dream. Selene, look at me!"

With that, awareness took over, and she realized she was in the tent, safe and sound, and Vilkas was safe. She threw her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder. "It was the black dragon," she told him, her breath coming in terrified gasps. "He came back, and he burned you to ash while you stood guard outside."

"I'm fine, Selene. The black dragon is long gone from Helgen; shh, it's all right."

Vilkas brought her some water, and she sipped at it while she shook off the rest of the cobwebs. It took a while, but she finally pulled herself together. "Get some rest," she said. "I'm okay, but I'm not going to sleep again. Liska and I will stand guard."

He regarded her dubiously, his gray eyes narrowed with concern, but finally nodded his assent. "There's a bandit camp south of here," he warned her. "Probably in Helgen."

"How could you possibly know that? We're a mile away."

"I can smell them. They shouldn't give you any problem. We're too far away for them to notice us." He lay down on the bedroll as Selene stepped outside the tent, snapping her fingers for the fox to follow.

A stillness that could only be experienced in the wee hours of the morning settled over the campsite as the nocturnal creatures bedded down for their rest and the day animals hadn't yet awakened. In mid-autumn all the crickets and cicadas were gone. Even the wind was calm. She stood as in a vacuum with utter hush around her, so rare in a world full of noise. In the cities, people were always talking, hammers were pounding, doors were slamming, and hooves were clopping on cobblestones. In the woods, the birds sang, the wind soughed through the timbers, animals' feet crunched on fallen leaves. So much to listen to. And tonight, nothing. The silence was deafening.

Then, soft footsteps as Liska padded up to her. "Wow-wow-wow," the little fox cooed.

"What is it?" Selene asked. "You can't be hungry. That rat you ate was bigger than you."

"Wow-wow-wow."

"I'm not picking you up, either. I'm standing guard. Go to sleep."

With that, the fox grumbled and went to curl up by the fire. Selene knew she didn't really understand, but sometimes Liska's reaction to certain words was uncanny.

Vilkas got up just after sunrise, and they had dried meat and cheese for breakfast before breaking camp and moving on. They skirted through the woods around Helgen so as not to disturb the bandits and made it to Orphan Rock an hour later.

Vilkas sniffed the air and grimaced. "One hagraven up there on that rock. Ugh, she stinks! Four witches down here."

The free-standing rock where the hagraven had set up her foul altar was some twenty feet high and stood ten feet away from the main land. A fallen log acted as a bridge between the campsite and the giant platform. She stood over a spriggan with a knife, chanting in some long-forgotten language, and didn't see them yet. The witches guarding the camp did, however, and one of them appeared through the trees and started hurling ice spikes at them. Vilkas charged her, and Selene searched the surrounding area for the others. She found another one preparing to shoot a fireball and aimed her bow, took a deep breath as she peered down the shaft, and shot. The witch dodged the arrow and sent the fireball at her, singing her hair. "Not my hair!" she wailed as she loosed another arrow. It hit, injuring the witch, but she didn't drop. The wound slowed her down, though, and the next arrow killed her. Off to her left, Vilkas snarled ferociously, and Selene turned her head to see him swing his greatsword at a witch with a dagger, all but cutting her in half. He rejoined her on the path and they looked for the fourth witch, who still hadn't shown her face.

"There," Vilkas whispered, pointing to a copse near the rock, "hiding."

Selene took aim, but she could barely make out the dark-robed figure, and her arrow missed. Vilkas moved toward the witch, only to be pelted with huge fireballs from the hagraven. Selene moved closer to the platform holding the repulsive half-woman, half-bird, and shot arrow after arrow at her, drawing as quickly as she could without sacrificing accuracy; but the creature was hardy, and for every arrow, there was a fireball. Selene was able to dodge most of them and sustain only minor burns, but two of them sent in quick succession hit her square in her left shoulder and collarbone and she screamed in pain. The fireballs heated her breastplate as well, further searing her skin, and she burned her fingers trying to get it off. The smell of scorched flesh was nauseating, and the knowledge that it was her own made her gag and choke. Helgen had been her imagination; the reality was far more distressing.

Fortunately the fireballs stopped when Vilkas dispatched the witch, dashed up the hill to the campsite and across the log bridge to engage the hagraven hand-to-hand. Selene managed to discard her sizzling breastplate and run up the hill toward the log bridge, her chest unprotected except for her undershirt.

"Are you mad?" Vilkas shouted. "You've no armor. Stay back!" Selene did as Vilkas bade her and backed down the hill while he engaged in a furious melee with the hag, sword against claws. She tried to back up and shoot a fireball, but he chased her relentlessly, never letting her get more than a few feet away; but in so close, the greatsword was unwieldy, and he had trouble getting a good, strong swing. She ducked beneath the blade time and again and dragged razor-sharp claws across his face, arms, and any chinks in his armor. Vilkas roared with pain and rage, but he kept his head. He risked a step back, and before the hagraven could ready her fireball, he spun in place and executed a picture-perfect strike, decapitating the creature. He dropped to his knees, panting, and Selene ran up the hill and across the bridge.

"Are you all right?" she asked as she knelt next to him.

"Aye, just out of breath." He looked up at her critically. "But you're not. Let's get off this rock and get you patched up."

Selene rummaged through the hag's things until she found Nettlebane, an ebony dagger that emanated evil magic. She could hardly stand to touch it. She found a rag and wrapped the offensive weapon in it, then followed Vilkas across the bridge to the witches' camp.

Vilkas dug into his pack for a healing poultice and bandages, then helped Selene out of her shirt. Sitting next to him half-naked made her self-conscious, and she instinctively raised her arms to cover her breasts. Vilkas gave her a wry look. "I understand your embarrassment, but I can't treat your burns with you sitting like that. I'm much more worried about your injuries than seeing you naked."

Selene stayed covered while he removed his gloves and opened a jar that contained a pinkish salve and dipped his fingers into it, but she lowered her arms when he raised his eyebrows and regarded her expectantly. She hissed as he dabbed the ointment on her blistered skin and squeezed tears back as he treated the worst of the burns, a line on her shoulder where the edge of her armor had burned through the leather. She skin was charred and shredded, oozing blood and plasma.

"That's gonna scar," he remarked.

"Hopefully Danica can use her magic to heal the worst of it."

He wiped the poultice off his hands and dug into her pack for a healing potion, which he handed her to drink while he carefully bandaged her shoulder. "Can you stand that?"

"Uu-huh. It's not too bad."

"We'll rest for the day before heading back to Whiterun."

Selene shook her head. "No, I'm okay to walk. I can't wear my armor, so I'll have to be more careful if we run into danger, but I don't want to wait that long. I want to get rid of that dagger. It gives me the creeps."

They headed back, and Vilkas picked up her armor on the way down the hill and carried it all the way to Whiterun, prepared to drop it if they encountered any enemies, but the trip back was blissfully uneventful. They walked into the temple just before midnight, and Danica looked up in surprise. "Honestly, I didn't expect to see you again."

"So you sent me off to my death, then?"

"No, no, it's not that. I'm glad you made it. But the hagravens are deadly."

"Aye, I know," Selene said dryly.

"Let me have a look at your shoulder." Vilkas excused himself and left for Jorrvaskr, and Danica took Selene to a back room, where she worked her healing magic. She was able to heal all but the most serious burn, although she was able to ease the pain some. "The rest will have to heal on its own."

"I understand. Here." Selene pulled the wrapped dagger from her pack and held it out for Danica.

The priestess grimaced and backed away with a shudder. "I don't really want to touch that," she said with distaste. "Will you continue the mission?"

"Sure. Tell me where I need to go." Danica told her where to find Eldergleam Sanctuary, and Selene left the temple and went to Jorrvaskr to find Vilkas. "Are you needed here, or would you want to go to Eldergleam Sanctuary to get the sap?" she asked him.

"I'm all yours," he replied.

Selene couldn't wear the steel armor over her burned shoulder, so she borrowed some fur armor from Ria before she and Vilkas set out for Eldergleam Sanctuary. They spent two nights on the road before crossing the White River onto the Aalto, the volcanic sulfur flats at the center of Eastmarch. As they walked across the terraced rocks and skirted around the shallow pools, they heard the telltale whoosh of wings and the dreaded howl. Selene stopped in her tracks.

"Over there," said Vilkas, pointing to the northeast. In the distance, perhaps a couple of miles away, a dragon flew in circles around a rocky peak. It was far enough away not to be a danger for now, but Vilkas looked at it longingly.

"Don't tell me you actually _want_ to go fight that dragon."

"No, we have a mission; I know that. We'll go on to the sanctuary."

Eldergleam Sanctuary was located near the south end of the Aalto. The outside just looked like an ordinary cave, dark and foreboding, but the inside was glorious. An ethereal glow from above illuminated moss-covered stones and high waterfalls. Dragon's tongue and creep cluster grew everywhere, along with dozens of other species of flora, and butterflies and dragonflies flitted from flower to flower. A path led through the sanctuary and up a short hill to a magnificent tree that dominated the landscape. The pink-blossomed tree's roots splayed out in all directions and stretched far into the gardens.

"By Ysmir," Vilkas gasped with wonder.

"By _Kynareth_," Selene corrected.

As they walked up the path toward the tree, a couple of worshipers stopped to chat. One of them said the roots grew over the path so no one could get to Eldergleam's trunk. Selene didn't tell the woman that she knew how to get past the roots. They continued up the path until they came to the first root, which stood taller than Selene. Liska climbed up on the root and peered down at her expectantly. Selene unwrapped Nettlebane and hesitated.

"Vilkas, I don't think I can do this."

"We can go if you're uncertain, but think hard before you do. You came here to heal the Gildergreen. It will die if you go back empty-handed."

Selene steeled herself and took a swipe at the root with Nettlebane. When the blade connected with wood, the root moved out of her way, and Liska squealed and jumped off. Selene could have sworn she heard a whimper, and it wasn't the fox. It was the same with the next root, but as she walked toward the third, her legs grew heavy. This tree was the embodiment of Kynareth—Kyne—mother of men, patron of travelers. _Her_ patron. And she was hurting her. Tears welled in her eyes as she cut into the third root, and when it moved out of the way, she stayed put. There was one more root in her way, bigger around than she was yet delicate, and it waited just a few steps away. Better to get this over with. She stepped toward the root, only to stop short.

Vilkas rested a hand on her shoulder, and Liska rubbed against her leg like a cat. She squeezed Vilkas's hand and took another step forward, feeling as though she were swimming in honey, thick and viscous, restraining her. When she finally reached the root, she raised Nettlebane, but she found she couldn't lower the dagger. With an anguished cry, Selene tossed the knife away and dropped to her knees, bursting into tears.

"Kynareth, please forgive me," she begged. "I'm so sorry. I was misguided." Vilkas sat down next to her and held her as she wailed, and Liska chittered at her, but there was no comfort. How could she ever expect to be forgiven for such a heinous act? Since Ben's death, Selene knew no real love except for Kynareth, gentle, benevolent, and terrible, goddess of the wind and rain, and of her beloved sky. And she had sliced into her tree like it was a common weed.

A hand tenderly stroked her hair, and it took Selene a moment to realize she could see both of Vilkas's hands. She twisted her head around, but no one was there. Then she knew. She didn't hear a voice, but Kynareth was speaking to her. A feeling of warmth and love surrounded her, and the root moved out of the way.

"What the—?" Vilkas muttered.

Selene pulled away from him and got up, walking slowly beneath the root and up the hill toward Eldergleam's trunk. The light shining on the tree intensified until she was blind to anything around it, and a resonant hum rang through the air, as though a thousand flutes were playing the same note, growing progressively louder until it stopped abruptly. The blinding light faded, leaving a tiny sapling in the soft earth at Selene's feet.

Selene looked up at the tree. "Thank you," she whispered. She bent down and gently tugged the sapling up by the roots, then turned to Vilkas.

"Are you all right?" he asked with concern.

"I am now. Hey, wanna go kill a dragon?"

A broad grin crossed her friend's face. "Do you even need to ask?"

* * *

Characters and settings c. 2011 Bethesda Softworks LLC


	6. An Orphan's Tale 6: Lost Childhood

An Orphan's Tale 7

Lost Childhood

The first leg of the trip back to Whiterun was rough because it rained in the morning and they had to deal with a group of bandits that afternoon. Selene was in a lot of pain, her shoulder hurting so badly at times that she had to stop and remove her outer armor to relieve the pressure against her skin. By suppertime they were exhausted, but they had eaten nothing but rations for a couple of days and wanted something more substantial, so they set up camp and went hunting. They found a deer not far from camp. They crouched behind a boulder, and Selene nocked an arrow.

"I should have brought a bow," Vilkas whispered with frustration.

"It's all right. I'll kill it if you'll cut it up and cook it."

"Deal."

Selene stood slowly, ignoring the pain in her shoulder as she aimed and shot, and she took the deer down with one arrow. She removed its antlers while Vilkas skinned the animal and cut into its ribs.

"Why do you take the antlers?" he asked.

"Potion ingredients."

"I didn't know you were an alchemist."

"I'm not. I'll sell them to Arcadia. Unless they get too cumbersome to carry with my shoulder. I'll see how it goes."

When they had enough venison to feed them, they left the rest of the deer for the scavengers and went back to camp. It was a chilly night, and Selene wrapped herself in a fur as they ate venison and cheese, washing it down with bottles of mead. Vilkas was quiet, lost in thought, and Selene watched him. He was brilliant, and his gray eyes and speech patterns reflected that intelligence. She had learned a lot from him during their many discussions, and she didn't like it when he was silent like this.

"I'm thinking of buying Breezehome," she announced, trying to draw him out.

"What's wrong with Jorrvaskr?"

"I love Jorrvaskr, but sleeping in a dorm with four other people doesn't afford much privacy. I'm also accumulating a lot of stuff, and I don't have a good place to put it all. Besides, Jarl Balgruuf is pressuring me to buy property. You know, being Thane and all."

Vilkas chuckled. "That's right, you're a noble. Perhaps I should start addressing you as such, my Thane. Or milady."

"Don't even think about it!" The conversation died off, and Selene tried again. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Why are you so angry?"

"Anything but that."

"I'm your friend, you know. You can tell me anything."

He glared at her and opened his mouth to say something scathing, but he stopped and looked away. He thought for a moment and said, "Very well. I'll tell you why I'm angry if you'll tell me why you are."

"I'm not angry."

"You get a look in your eye sometimes as though you want to kill someone. I know you still plan to go to Riften. Who do you hate so much in Riften?"

Selene closed her eyes and tried to block out the images that came to her mind. They were never too far away, but keeping them private made them less tangible. To talk about them would only aggravate the wounds, and she didn't know if finding out Vilkas's secret was worth it.

"I'm your friend, too," he said softly.

She opened her eyes to see him staring at her. Try as she might, Selene could never keep from comparing him and his brother. He looked just like Farkas, although his constant scowl diminished his attractiveness. He was uptight even when he wasn't in a bad mood, and she had heard Farkas to tell him to "unclench" several times. He was obsessively tidy, always keeping his hair and beard cut short, his armor and weapons spotless, and his room immaculate. He rarely looked her in the eye—rarely looked _anyone_ in the eye unless he was openly challenging them—but now he gazed earnestly at her, waiting. She stared back for a moment, weighing her options before deciding yes, it was worth it. Farkas knew part of the tale, but Selene found herself wanting to share everything with Vilkas.

"It's a long story."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"All right. You know I was born in Whiterun."

"Aye."

"I don't remember anything about it; I was very small. I do remember my parents, though. They were very loving, and I didn't want for anything."

"I was in the marketplace once with Gwendolyn Battle-Born, and you were there with your mother," he recalled. "Gwendolyn looked at you and said, 'You can always tell the difference between a happy child and an unhappy child, and that's a happy child.'"

Selene smiled. "I like that. I _was_ happy. Anyway, my parents hated the Empire, and they talked a lot about it. I didn't know what the Empire was, of course, but I figured if Ma and Da hated them, they must be pretty bad. When I was five, we went on a trip to Windhelm, and I was really excited because I'd never been anywhere. But we never made it to Windhelm."

"I remember the rumors. Your parents were killed by bandits."

"They weren't bandits; they were Imperial soldiers. We happened upon a group of them, and Ma and Da got into a fight with them. Ma and Da were slain. The soldiers argued for a long time about what to do with me, and they finally decided to take me to Honorhall Orphanage in Riften. I was there five years."

"Your scent just changed."

"What?"

"When you mentioned the orphanage, anger and hatred flooded through your scent. What happened there?"

"Honorhall was run by a matron named Grelod the Kind. She was _not_ kind. I could never understand why she ran the orphanage, because she obviously hated us. She was cruel and abusive, and she wouldn't let anybody adopt us. Two months after I arrived, she broke my hand when I had reached for something I wasn't supposed to have."

"Selene, by the Eight!"

"I lived with it for five years before I decided I had to get out. One afternoon when we were out in the yard, Grelod went inside for a nap. I grabbed the nearest kid—Ben—and we went over the wall. The orphanage is by the south gate, and the guard let us out. She had guarded that gate for a long time, and she could hear how Grelod treated us."

"Why didn't she ever do anything about it?"

Selene shrugged. "I couldn't say. Anyway, Ben and I headed south, and we made it all the way to Cyrodiil."

"You went over the mountains?" Vilkas asked incredulously.

"Uh-huh."

"You were ten years old!"

"And Ben was eight. It certainly wasn't easy, but we managed it. We did what we could to survive—hunt, steal, beg, do odd jobs for villagers. We did a lot of fighting, too. Every once in a while we'd find someone who would give us combat training in exchange for errands or odd jobs. As you've seen, I got pretty good."

"But it must have been a hard life."

"Not nearly as hard as living under Grelod's hand. Ben was the best little brother you could imagine. He was so brave, and he was smart, too. I was always kind of high strung, but he kept a cool head. A fortnight before my seventeenth birthday, we snuck into an Imperial garrison to steal some food and got caught. They killed Ben before he could even put up a fight." Selene's breath caught in her throat, and a tear rolled down her cheek as the image of the Imperial's sword slicing through Ben's body replayed in her mind.

Vilkas reached out and wiped the tear away. "You don't have to go on if you don't want to."

"No, I've gotten this far," she said with a sniffle.

"How did you escape?"

"There were five of them. Five Imperial soldiers, blind, stinking drunk. They thought it was fun to push me back and forth between them, and when I tried to fight back, one of them backhanded me across the face. My eye was swollen shut for a week. Anyway, after they played catch with me for a while, they drew lots to see which of them would get to rape me first. The winner took me to an empty stall in the stable and stripped me naked. But he was distracted, and he didn't even notice when I pulled the dagger from his belt. I'm a very good pickpocket. Anyway, he pushed me to the ground, and I struggled against him. While he was fumbling around, trying to hold me still, I stuck the dagger in his side."

"Good!" Vilkas exclaimed enthusiastically.

"He fell to the ground screaming, and I took the opportunity to castrate him." She smiled proudly, and Vilkas laughed heartily. "I tried to feed him his testicles, but the bastard wouldn't be still."

With that, Vilkas lost all composure. He lay down on the ground and laughed until tears streamed down his cheeks. He rarely even smiled, and here he was, rolling on the ground, cracking up. Selene loved seeing him like that, and his laughter made her painful story much more bearable.

When he finally settled down and was ready to listen again, Selene said, "I realized all his yelling was going to bring the other soldiers, so I gave up and climbed the wall. I found a house not too far away that had clothes hung out to dry, and I was able to dress."

"They never found you?"

"No."

"Selene, I—I don't know what to say."

"There's no need to say anything. Believe me, Ben's death hurt me more than what that soldier tried to do to me. As you can imagine, I have no love for the Empire."

"What did you do after that?"

"I lived on my own for a couple of years. I spent some time in the cities, working, stealing, grifting. Grifting was easy because people are basically stupid and greedy."

"Not everybody's like that."

"No, but there are enough to make a good living cheating and conning them. Try not to judge me, okay?"

"You did what you had to do," he said, his voice devoid of emotion, and Selene knew he _was_ judging her. Vilkas was very big on honor, and what she had done was wrong. But he didn't understand. How could he?

"Most people will say anything to bend you to their will," she declared bitterly. "I'm not the only one who lies, cheats, and steals, you know. And that time in the Imperial fort wasn't the last time somebody tried to rape me. I developed a lot of animosity in those two years—for the Imperials and Grelod but also for people in general.

"I was in the Imperial City a few months ago, and I heard news that Ulfric Stormcloak had killed High King Torygg. There was a lot of talk about the civil war in Skyrim and the worship of Talos, who I'd never even heard of. The more I heard, the more I realized this was where I wanted to be. It's funny. I meet so many people who want to leave Skyrim because of the war, and they think I'm crazy for wanting to be here, but I wouldn't be anywhere else."

"Are you planning on joining the Stormcloaks?"

"I've thought about it. I also thought I would do more of what I was doing in Cyrodiil. A whole new batch of people to steal from, to con, to—and then I met the Companions. You all have so much integrity, so much honor. I don't really feel I deserve to be among your numbers. And now you don't, either."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I can read people, too, just not by scent. Your tone of voice has changed. When I started talking, you were my friend. Now you're not so sure you can be my friend. But Vilkas, you're an orphan, too. You could as easily have turned out like me."

He glared at her, and she never took her eyes off his. After a moment, he looked away. "You're right. I might have. I...apologize for my behavior. I've no call to judge anything you do. And yes, I'm still your friend. But you say it all so matter-of-factly."

"I've had to detach myself from it, or I would go crazy. Everyone I've ever loved was brutally murdered, and I was abused and tortured throughout my childhood. Would _you_ want to dwell on that all the time? When I think about it, it hurts. So I don't think about it."

"You're lying."

"What, you can smell a lie, too?" He raised an eyebrow at her, and she growled in frustration. "That is really annoying, you know. Very well, I do my best to remain detached, and I try not to get close to anybody. You and Farkas are the only real friends I've had since Ben died, and I worry all the time that I'm getting too close and something will happen to destroy it. I look at Farkas, and I want him so much. I want to love him, but I just can't let him in like that. And you, you've got this huge chip on your shoulder, and my first instinct should be just to stay out of your way, but something in the deepest recesses of my soul tells me you need me."

Vilkas chuckled mirthlessly. "Perhaps I do."

"All right, beautiful man. I've bared my soul to you; now it's your turn."

"You already know my story," he protested.

"Your adoptive father saved you from necromancers and raised you in the Companions, but he went off to war and never came back."

"That's pretty much it."

"There's more to it than that, and I know it."

"Not really."

"Vilkas."

Vilkas sighed. "What has Farkas told you?"

"No, I want to hear it from you."

"Necromancers killed our parents and took us when we were too young to remember. To this day, I don't know what they had in mind for us, but they...did things to us. I don't remember many of the details, thank the gods; mostly what I remember is them hurting and scaring us. There was one time, though, that I'll never forget if I live to be a hundred. Farkas wouldn't stop crying, and one of them cast a spell on him. An Alteration spell."

"What did it do?"

"It took his mouth away for two days," he spat.

Selene's jaw dropped. She couldn't imagine such horror. "What? You can do that?"

"We were three then, and he didn't say another word until he was almost eight years old. It's one of my first real memories. I don't know if he remembers it; I pray he doesn't. I think one reason he's slow to learn is because of something the necromancers did to him. We're twins; we should be just alike. But we're not, and that's the only reason I can think of."

"When did Jergen find you?"

"We were four. He planned on taking us to Honorhall as well, but when he arrived there he decided against it." He gave her a wry smile. "Something about a cruel matron."

"You're kidding!"

"When you said I could have ended up like you, you didn't know how right you were, eh?"

"What was Jergen like?"

"Driven. The Companions were his life. He tried to be a good father, but he wasn't up to raising twin boys. He didn't know what to do. Got a lot of help from Aela's mother and Kodlak. When he adopted us, he got in over his head, but he was stuck with us. He had too much heart to just drop us on the doorstep of the orphanage but not enough to actually be a loving father. The way I see it, when the war started, he saw it as his excuse to get out. Jergen left us when we were six years old. He had never even heard Farkas speak. See, Farkas will tell you he was our father and he raised us to be Companions. _Kodlak_ raised us."

He took a deep breath and glowered, his eyes burning. He spoke again through clenched teeth, his voice growing louder and more irate with every word. "I don't know if he was killed in battle or if he just decided not to come back, but I don't care."

Enraged, Vilkas roared, launched himself from the ground and paced back and forth in front of the fire, trying to calm his fury. He ran a hand through his dark hair, his breathing heavy and raspy. "Farkas will tell you he did what he had to do, but no. He had to stay and take care of us. What kind of man adopts a child—_two_ children—and then decides fatherhood is too much for him and just abandons them, leaving them for someone else to take care of? Why? Why would he do that? Did he think we weren't worth bothering with? That the war was more important than us? For the longest time, I hated myself, hated Farkas, because we obviously weren't worthy of being loved."

"Vilkas, that's not true."

He looked at Selene, startled, as if he had forgotten she was there. "I know that now. Now I realize _he's_ not worthy of love. Sometimes I hope he's still alive and I meet him someday, because I want nothing more—nothing in the world—than to run the bastard through!"

"Vilkas—"

"Will you be all right alone? I have to get out of here."

Selene nodded, and he took off running. He disappeared into the woods, and after a few minutes, she heard a desolate, mournful howl. She buried her face in her hands and wept for the second time that day. She cried for Vilkas's lost childhood, for his feeling of abandonment, his anger; but she also cried because he had tried so long and hard to resist the beastblood, and he had given in because she had pressed him too hard.

After a while she lay down and closed her eyes with Liska curled up next to her. She had gotten used to camping with a shield-brother and was a little skittish about sleeping in the wilderness alone, but she reminded herself she had done it for two years before joining the Companions, and she finally drifted into a light sleep, restful but aware of the sounds of the forest.

Vilkas came back sometime in the night, and he lay down behind her and wrapped his arm around her, careful not to disturb her burned shoulder. The closeness was awkward, but Selene sensed he needed it, so she snuggled up to him and covered his arm with hers.

"I'm sorry I left like that," he whispered.

"It's okay. I'm sorry I forced you to bring all that out."

"Don't be. I feel better."

"Are you lying?"

He hesitated for a moment and then said, "Yes."

* * *

Characters and settings c. 2011 Bethesda Softworks LLC


	7. An Orphan's Tale: Birthday

An Orphan's Tale 7

Birthday

There was no autumn in Skyrim. There wasn't much of a summer, and what little good weather there was gave way to winter early in Frostfall. In Cyrodiil, Selene had been used to celebrating her birthday, which was 11 Last Seed, in reasonably warm weather. This year, however, a bitter wind blew across Jorrvaskr's training yard and sprinkles of rain turned to sleet, stinging her skin like tiny razor blades.

"You know what Jorrvaskr needs?" she commented as she and Farkas sparred.

"What's that?"

"An indoor training space."

"Come on, Selene, you're a Nord. Weather like this isn't supposed to bother you." His blade connected with her arm. "And it's not supposed to distract you. Keep your mind on the fight."

She rubbed her shoulder painfully. Farkas's practice blade was dull, but the impact still would leave a bruise. "Easy for you to say. You grew up in this shit. I'm used to balmy weather into Evening Star."

"Well, if you can't handle the weather, I guess we can stop for the day."

"Can't handle—I can handle anything you throw at me, beautiful man." She swung low, aiming for his knees.

He nimbly dodged the strike. "Aye, but I'm not throwing the weather at you."

"I can handle anything _Kynareth_ throws at me, too."

"I'm just gonna stand over there so I won't be in the way of the lightning strike, okay?"

Selene laughed, and Farkas used the distraction to get a strike in to her ribs.

"Damn it!"

"All right," he relented, sheathing his sword. "I'm calling it. But your concentration is still your biggest downfall."

"Just with you and Vilkas."

"I'm sure that sometime in the future, you'll fight _other_ handsome and charming opponents, so you might as well get used to it now."

"But I'll never find any as modest. I'm getting out of this weather. Join me for lunch in the mead hall?"

"Sure, but before that, go see Skjor. He was asking for you earlier."

Skjor and Selene didn't talk much unless something was going on, usually a job or a party. He didn't just stop her in the hall for a chat. Thus, she expected him to give her an assignment.

"I hear it's your birthday," he said when she found him.

"Aye. Twenty years old."

"Well, I have a birthday gift for you," he told her. "Meet me outside the Underforge tonight."

"The Underforge?"

"It's beneath the Skyforge. I'll wait for you outside."

She mentioned the meeting to Farkas when she met him for lunch, and he nodded his understanding. "He's going to offer you the beastblood," he explained.

"He wants to make me a werewolf?" Farkas nodded in response, and a chill ran down her spine. "Oh, wow. I knew this day would come, but now that it's here, I know what to do. Werewolves are so fascinating, and I had thought I would jump at the chance to become one, but this is the moment of truth and the indecision is crippling. What do you think about this?"

"I've told you everything I can about it."

"But how do you feel about _me_ taking the beastblood? I need your advice."

Farkas sat quietly for a long moment, sipping his mead and thinking over his response. He finally sighed and shifted in his chair so he was facing her. "There's no feeling like it. The power, the speed, the...I can hardly describe it. But it's forever, so you need to be positive it's what you want. And there are bad things, too: the lack of control, the lack of _sleep_, and the call of the beast, especially when emotions are running hot or there's a lot of blood around, is hard to resist. You have to feed, sometimes on humans. I mean there's nothing to say you _have_ to feed on them, or even on _good_ humans; there's a lot of bandits and necromancers out there. But still, it's pretty much impossible to avoid it all the time. My first thought is to say no, but I'd love to hunt with you and show you things you can't even imagine. You know how hard it is to kill a troll?" He made a swiping motion with his hand. "One hit—dead. There's other stuff, too."

"Like what?"

He didn't answer, just smiled and caressed her cheek, and Selene knew what he meant. She remembered his desire, his passion the night they had made love, how contagious it was; and she could imagine how it might be magnified if they shared the beastblood

"So yes, then?"

"Yes."

Farkas might have said yes, but Selene knew Vilkas would say no, and she was right. She found him later and asked him what he thought, and he looked at her as if she had grown horns.

"Why would you even think about doing it?" he asked incredulously.

"Because you might think it's a curse, but others think it's a blessing. It's very confusing."

"I don't understand why. It's not just the lack of control. When you die, you'll never go to Sovngarde. Hircine will snatch you up and take you away to his Hunting Grounds for all eternity."

"Some don't think that's such a bad thing."

He shook his head vehemently. "But it is. We're Nords; we belong in Sovngarde."

"Who's to say I'll go to Sovngarde anyway? Better the Hunting Grounds than Oblivion."

Vilkas snorted derisively. "That's just an excuse. Kid's going home knowing he's in trouble, and if he's going to get a good licking, he might as well throw a few spitballs on the way." He reached out and took her hand. "Selene, I beg you, please don't do this. You'll regret it for the rest of your life and beyond."

She asked the other whelps as well, and they were split down the middle. Torvar and Ria said no, but Athis and Njada would kill to join the Inner Circle and take the blood. In fact, Njada was passionate about it. "Imagine taking down a deer with no weapons. Imagine taking down a _giant_ with no weapons! The fight alone would be worth all the other stuff."

"It's always about the fight with you," Torvar retorted.

"You wanna go now?" Njada dared him. "You don't have any fight in you! Why are you even with the Companions?"

"Guys!" Ria snapped. "We're helping Selene right now."

Njada glared at Torvar before turning back to Selene. "Yes," she declared definitively.

There was one person left to ask, and Selene wasn't looking forward to it. She already knew how Kodlak felt about being a werewolf, and she knew what he was going to say. He was the one who had convinced Vilkas it was a curse, and he was actively searching for a cure. There was no way he would give her a positive response. However, he was a trusted advisor, and she owed it to him to seek his counsel.

She found him in his office, sitting at his desk and writing in a log book. She had only seen him out of that chair once, when he had initiated her into the Companions. He was getting up in years and his health was failing; the rot had set in, and much of the time he didn't even feel like eating. Vilkas had said he was afraid the Harbinger wouldn't live much longer, and Selene feared the same. He looked wearier every day, his face ashen with ever-darkening circles under his eyes.

Kodlak looked up and smiled when she approached him. "Sit down," he said, and Selene did so. "What can I do for you this day?"

"Rumor has it Skjor is going to offer me the beastblood tonight."

He nodded. "I heard as much."

"I'm confused, Harbinger. Everyone has such different opinions about it, and I don't know what to think."

"But you told me once that it was wonderful."

Selene shrugged. "That was when it was far in the future. Now it's only a few hours away."

"Well, you know how I feel, but I cannot help you make this decision, my dear. You must decide what's right for you, and the others' opinions do not matter."

"But they do, Harbinger. It's been a long time since I cared what people thought—actually, before I came here, I _never_ cared what people thought—but they're my friends, and their advice matters. _Your_ advice matters."

"My advice is to think long and hard and weigh your options. You know the good and the bad. I assume you've talked to everyone? If their opinions matter to you, take what they said to heart. You're a big girl, Selene. You know what you want out of life, and you know how to ask yourself the hard questions. Ask them now. How will your life change if you take the blood? Will it change for the better? Will you be miserable for the rest of your life, or will you learn to take the bad with the good? You've spent your life adapting or manipulating your situation to suit you. As a werewolf, some things will be out of your control. Can you adapt to them? You already know there are no secrets. Your shield-siblings can smell your emotions, hear your blood coursing through your veins, and tell if you are lying. Do you want that knowledge? Do you want to know everything about a person by his scent? Where they've been, what they've done, what they've eaten, if they've killed, if they've made love—or if they want to? There are things people should not know about the others they interact with.

"You will feel closer to your shield-siblings, at least within the Circle. The bond of the pack goes beyond the physical senses and beyond family. There's an emotional bond, but there is also a psychic connection. You will be able to sense them even if you cannot smell them, know if they're in distress or if they're content, and you can find them if necessary. There is a comfort in such a bond, a security unlike any you've experienced."

"But that's a good thing, right?" Selene remarked.

"Aye, it is. It is not all bad, I assure you. This is why I say you have to weigh your options. Think on it; consider. Make the right decision for yourself, not for the others. You don't have to make it tonight if you're not ready. Skjor will wait."

Selene left Kodlak's office with a lot to think about. She went to the mead hall and took a chunk of cheese and a bottle of mead from the table, then went out to the training yard and climbed the wall of a nearby watchtower. She sat for hours, her legs slung over the side, watching the world. The river flowed, the guards walked back and forth on the road, the farmers tended their crops. A rabbit darted across the meadow. All of them were oblivious to Selene and the heavy decision before her.

Sometime after supper, Farkas approached with Liska in his arms and handed her to Selene. "Somebody was missing you."

"Thanks."

"You all right?"

"Uh-huh. Just thinking."

"Can't help you with that. I don't do it much."

"Why do you do that? You're always putting yourself down."

Farkas shrugged. "Better that than let somebody else do it."

"Grrr."

"I'll leave you to it. Call if you need anything."

When he walked away, Selene turned back to the scene outside the walls, scratching Liska behind the ears absently. Liska cooed at her, and she looked into the little fox's eyes. "What should I do, hmm?" she asked. "How would you react if I was suddenly a predator? Would you be afraid of me? You're not afraid of the others. But you know what? There's something nobody has even thought of. I have dragon blood. How would that mix with the beastblood?"

A Dragonborn werewolf. As if the idea of taking the blood wasn't perplexing enough. What if she had no control whatsoever? What if she turned into a feral creature that killed everything around her? How was she supposed to fight dragons then? She hadn't even been to High Hrothgar yet and knew next to nothing about what she was and what she could do. But what if it didn't make any difference whatsoever? It was enough to make her head spin.

There was one thing she did know. Watching Farkas shift to his beast form was one of the most exhilarating things that had ever happened to her. She was already a hunter, already had a taste for blood. She relished sneaking up on her prey, sensing if it would notice her and dart away or stand still and let her slaughter it where it stood, the feel of the bow in her hands, the whoosh of the arrow as it flew from the string, the whimper of the animal as it hit. How would it feel to do it _without_ the bow, to kill an animal with nothing but teeth and claws? To feed?

Yes, there was bad along with the good, but as Selene watched the sun begin to sink behind the Throat of the World and Masser appear, a pale, gray crescent in the darkening sky, she knew. She wanted this.

As the sun set, she climbed down from the wall and carried Liska into the mead hall. "You have to stay in here tonight," she said as she put the fox down. Liska padded down the stairs, climbed into a chair in a corner away from the table and went to sleep. Selene opened the door and went back outside.

Skjor had just arrived at the door to the Underforge, which was halfway between Jorrvaskr and the Skyforge. Selene couldn't believe she had never noticed the door carved into the stone, because now she couldn't miss it.

"Are you ready?" Skjor asked her.

Selene nodded. He pressed a hidden panel in the ground with his foot, and the door slid open. She followed him into the Underforge.

The cave was barely large enough to hold the four tables set into the walls, the large font in the middle of the room and the couple of torches that lit it. Selene's heart pounded as she saw that she and Skjor weren't alone; they were accompanied by a slavering werewolf. She felt no fear, at least not of the beast, but she was apprehensive about what was coming next.

"I hope you recognize Aela, even in her beast form. We do this at night, in secret, because Kodlak would not approve. He's too busy trying to find a cure."

"Kodlak knows," said Selene.

"You told him?"

"He already knew. Not much gets past him, you know."

"Farkas told you," he guessed.

"I'd have figured it out, though. Not much gets past me, either."

"Did Kodlak try to stop you?"

"No, he said it was my decision. _Vilkas_ tried to stop me."

"Vilkas doesn't understand any more than Kodlak. The blood is a gift, Selene, a blessing. Imagine the power you'll have, the strength, the speed. The ceremony in the training yard was nothing. Tonight, we perform a ceremony befitting a warrior such as you. We give you the opportunity to join us in the Circle and become more than just family. But in order to do that, you have to take the Blood and be born into the pack. Are you ready to do this?"

She looked over at Aela, who stood behind the font, watching her. Her chest heaved as she panted with the euphoria of the beast form and anticipation of Selene's transformation. Selene wondered how it would be done. Would Aela bite her? Would it hurt? Of course, it would hurt. Aela's teeth were long and razor sharp. But she had already made her decision, and she was prepared. "I'm ready."

The one-eyed Nord drew a dagger and approached Aela, who held her arm out. Skjor sliced into her arm, and the werewolf let her blood drip into the font. The coppery scent filled the room as the blood pooled in the bowl, and Selene realized Aela wasn't going to bite her after all. It wasn't going to hurt. Until she transformed, of course.

"Drink," said Skjor, and Selene stepped up to the font. She dipped her hand into the bowl and drew the liquid to her lips, hesitating only a moment before she drank.

* * *

The next hours were an assault on the senses. The shift was screaming agony as every bone in her body broke and reformed, her skin stretched, and her face elongated into a muzzle; but the strength, the freedom, and the pure elation afterward made it all worth it. She could feel the beastblood coursing through her veins, changing her, making her into something else, something wild, feral—hungry. She sprinted across the tundra and through the woods with Aela, the wind blowing through her fur, the myriad scents and sounds, and she hunted. Oh, the hunt! Aela had to redirect her several times when she got on the trail of a human. Farkas had been right; the scent of human blood was seductive and well-nigh irresistible. Selene was vaguely aware that they were going somewhere, not just loping through the woods, but she barely noticed. There were too many new things to experience, too many new adventures awaiting her. Besides, Aela would let her know when they got there.

It turned out that "there" was just this side of Oblivion. In a fort somewhere in Eastmarch called Gallows Rock, they fought their way through throngs of Silver Hand and past prison cells and torture rooms full of dead—or nearly dead—werewolves until they came to the chamber of Krev the Skinner, this branch's leader. Krev and his subordinates gave them quite a fight, but the real horror—the worst in the entire fort—lay on a platform at the back of the room. It was Skjor.

Bile rose in Selene's throat as she took in the sight of Skjor's body. Someone had ripped his armor away and cast it aside, then taken a sword and ripped a slash from his collarbone to his privates. His intestines spilled out onto the floor, and blood congealed beneath him. His face was a mask of terror. Selene barely knew him, but she knew he was a great and experienced warrior, hard to scare. But he had died in fear and agony. She whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the image from her mind, but it would never go away. It was burned there forever.

"No," Aela groaned. "No, no, no." Her scent erupted with grief and fury as she knelt next to Skjor's torn body and wiped a spot of blood from his cheek. "Why did you come here alone? You should not have come without a shield-sibling! Why don't you ever listen?"

"Pull yourself together, sister," Selene urged her. "I need you."

Aela looked up at her and shook her head. "You won't shift again tonight, and I need to be alone. Get out of here and head back home. Tell the others what happened. I'll see if anybody else is here, and then I'll find a way to get him home."

"I don't think it's a good idea to leave—"

"_Go!"_

Selene turned and headed for the door.

"Selene," Aela called. When she turned around, the Huntress said, "They're going to die for this."

"Aye," Selene replied, then turned and left the fort.

* * *

Characters and settings c. 2011 Bethesda Softworks LLC


	8. An Orphan's Tale 8: Full Moon

An Orphan's Tale 8

Full Moon

The Companions brought Skjor's body home, and they held his funeral. Aela locked herself in her room afterward and didn't come out for a week. All the members of the Circle tried to visit her or draw her out, but she refused to open her door and told them to go away. When she finally came out, she spent time in Kodlak's office, reading through letters and notes he had on his desk, looking for anything that might indicate the location of the Silver Hand. One afternoon, she set out on her own and didn't come back for several days.

Selene's nerves were on edge. The mixture of dragon blood and beastblood didn't seem to have any unusual effect, but the new sensations still hard to get used to. The scents she experienced were distracting at best and downright frustrating most of the time, especially in the confines of Jorrvaskr. Kodlak had been right; she learned things about her shield-siblings that she didn't want to know. The sickness that ran through Kodlak's blood gave him a sour, rancid odor, and with the psychic connection she could sense his pain, weariness, and his struggle to stay alive long enough to find a cure. Torvar reeked of alcohol pretty much all the time, as if mead were flowing through his veins instead of blood. Njada was sleeping with Idolaf Battle-Born, and Ria had a mad crush on Aela. In town, things became awkward with Belethor, because he wanted Selene. His blood practically boiled when she entered his shop. Part of her wanted to use his lust to get better prices, but the other part cringed. She liked Belethor, but the thought of sleeping with the slimy little merchant was...well, gross. Also, she could hardly pass the meat stand anymore without drooling. The scent of the succulent cuts of steak and venison made her want to dig in and start eating right then and there, whether the meat was cooked or not.

The weirdest part was that Whiterun's town guards looked at her differently. Knowing she was Dragonborn, they had always treated her with a sort of reverence, but now they seemed uncertain, uncomfortable. Something had changed and they knew it, and though they didn't know what it was, they didn't like it. They would ask her questions about tending her hounds and mention her "wolfish grin," and Selene wondered if they _did_ know but were too afraid to say anything. Farkas confirmed that no, this time it was _not_ her imagination.

It took a few days for Liska to warm up to her; but after she comprehended that her human's scent was different but she was still the same human, everything was fine and she went back to following Selene everywhere. Sometimes she would sniff Selene's feet, walk over to one of the other werewolves and sniff their feet, and then come back and look up at her with a curious expression. Apparently, foxes were pretty smart and Liska was starting to figure things out.

Vilkas didn't have much to say to Selene after she became a werewolf. He grew more distant every day, and when they trained—if he trained with her at all—he was more likely to berate her harshly for mistakes. She would try to engage him in conversation, but he would make an excuse and walk away, or he would snap at her and say something like, "Don't you have anything to do? If not, I'm sure I can find a job for you." He was obviously upset with her for taking the Blood, and she already knew he could be snobbish and judgmental. She just hoped he would get over it soon because she missed having him as her friend.

Then there was Farkas. From the moment Selene returned from Gallows Rock, the tension between them was palpable. Where staying at arm's length was relatively easy before, now it was all but impossible. Everything they said to each other seemed as though it had a hidden, sexual meaning. Farkas could say, "Pass the bread," and Selene would hear, "Let's go to bed." A sparring session a few days after Skjor's funeral turned into a make-out session.

He found her one morning a couple of weeks after she was born into the pack and said, "Let's get out of here for a few days."

"Okay. Where are we going?"

"The Circle has an old, abandoned mine in The Pale where we stay sometimes when we're hunting."

"Abandoned mine? Sounds lovely," she said sarcastically.

"It's not as bad as it sounds. You really should get out of town. The full moon is tomorrow, and you will shift."

"I thought you said we didn't always shift to beast form on the full moon."

"We don't, but this is your first full moon, and trust me, you won't be able to control it. It'll be hard to control for a few months. I'll go with you and keep an eye on you to make sure you don't do anything stupid. We'll hunt at night and rest in the mine during the day."

They left that afternoon with Liska in tow, traveled all night, and arrived at the mine early the next morning. The door was barred with a lock that was too advanced for even Selene's lockpicking expertise, but Farkas had a key, and he let them in. It was much like every mine she had ever seen, a shaft leading down to several rooms, except the ore had long since been depleted. A living area had been set up in one of the larger rooms, complete with bedrolls, table and chairs, dried food, and a fire pit with a narrow chimney cut into the rock all the way to the surface. The pit had already been set up for the next fire, and Farkas used his torch to get it going while Selene unpacked their provisions. In just a few minutes, the cave was toasty warm. Liska sniffed for a spot to make her own and finally curled up on one of the empty bedrolls and went to sleep.

"This isn't half bad," Selene said appreciatively.

"The Companions have been coming here a long time. I think it was the Harbinger before Kodlak who cleaned the place out and set it up."

"Do you get lots of intruders?"

"A few. It's hard to get into, but some people are ten—tena—what's the word?"

"Tenacious."

"Yeah, that. They get in. Usually not when we're here, though. That would be bad for them. Anyway, we all spent our first full moons here—Vilkas, Aela, and I. Skjor and Kodlak, too, I'm sure. We should get some rest. Gonna be a long night."

Selene didn't think she would sleep, but traveling all night had set a deep weariness into her bones. She hadn't gotten a good night's rest since she had taken the Blood, but she got as much today as she could expect. Sometime late in the afternoon, she dreamed of the moons. They hung low in the sky, both of them smiling at her, calling, "Sele-e-e-e-ne. Come out to pla-a-a-ay!" She answered their call with a howl and loped across the countryside, following them as they teased her. "Come this way," Massar called. "Hunt with me," Secunda urged her. But as fast as she ran, she couldn't catch them. Her muscles ached and pain reverberated through her bones, and she howled. But it wasn't a howl; it was a scream.

She sat up straight, the scream still fresh on her lips and her bones and muscles smarting. Farkas sat next to her, watching.

"Hurts, don't it?" He gave her a wry smile.

"Does it ever get any better?"

"Yeah, and you get used to it. Changing back doesn't hurt as bad."

"I don't even remember changing back before."

"A lot of times, you do it in your sleep. Hunting all night takes a lot out of you."

She looked around the room. "Where's Liska?"

"I let her out. She'll probably be waiting for us at the door when we come back tomorrow morning. I doubt she'll want to hunt with us."

Sharp pain shot through her body, and Farkas said, "You might want to take your armor off." Selene barely had time to undress before her inner wolf took over and her body began to contort. Wracked with burning, stabbing pains and shrieking as she was, she didn't even notice when Farkas undressed and shifted, but he was in beast form before she finished shifting. She stood for a moment, panting, recovering from the agony that had stopped abruptly but left the memory pulsing through her body. Farkas nuzzled her and then took off running, and Selene followed him to the exit.

It was just as in her dream. The moons called to her—not with mouths, of course, but in her imagination—and she darted across the hills and tried to catch them. She picked up the scent of a deer and veered off toward it, chasing it down and rending it to pieces before it had a chance to flee. She and Farkas fed on the deer until another scent filled Selene's nostrils and she took off after it. Farkas, however, tackled her and pinned her roughly to the ground, his eyes boring into hers.

Ah. Humans.

He had said they couldn't always resist, but that didn't mean they would kill just anybody, and Selene knew he wasn't going to let her do something she would regret. She didn't struggle, just laid her arms back and looked away in a show of submission, and he nuzzled her and let her up.

They spent the night running through the snow, hunting, playing, and Selene couldn't remember ever feeling so free. It was easy to see how some werewolves abandoned their human selves altogether. The beast didn't worry about human concerns; nothing of their daily lives mattered, only the hunt and the kill.

Toward morning, they headed back toward the mine, and Farkas waded into a nearby pond to wash the blood off before going back inside. Selene followed, but she wasn't ready to go in just yet; she was feeling playful. She swam over to him and splashed him in the face. He growled and splashed her back, but she yelped and headed for the bank, with Farkas giving chase. Selene had always been a fast runner, and her beast form was no different, but Farkas's legs were longer and he caught up with her easily, tackled her and wrestled her to the ground. She struggled to get free, but he was stronger, and it wasn't much of a fight. When she stopped resisting, he bent down and nuzzled her, licked her face, and nibbled at her neck. Desire flared in his scent, and she keened with her need for him—right up until morning took over and her bones and muscles started to ache. She whined in frustration, and he let her up.

Selene followed Farkas back to the mine, hoping she could get inside where it was warm before changing back, but her body betrayed her about a hundred yards from the entrance. She screamed again as her bones broke and knit back into place, and she blacked out before the shift was complete. She awoke in the den with the fire banked and Farkas lying next to her, watching her sleep. Liska snored in a corner.

"Wow," she murmured. "That was the most amazing thing."

"How do you feel?"

She gave him a mischievous smile. "Horny."

"I think I can help you with that."

Selene had imagined that making love with Farkas when they both had the blood would be explosive, and she had been right. They were together as man and woman, but their inner beasts reached out and embraced each other as well, wild with their need and barely in control. The heat of his body, the scent of his blood, and the sound of his moans and cries fed her passion, and she clung to him, digging her nails into his back. Farkas bit into her neck and sent Selene over the edge, and she let loose a primal scream as spasm after ecstatic spasm rocked her body. His release followed soon after, and he fairly howled.

Spent, they lay entwined in each other's arms, hearts hammering, breathing heavy, drenched in sweat, and after a while Farkas withdrew and lay on his back. Selene rested her head on his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat gradually slow to normal and his breathing become regular as he fell asleep. The rhythm of his heartbeat lulled her to sleep as well.

Selene dreamed of the hunt. She ran like the wind, chasing down a sabre cat, catching it in her claws and hurling it into a rock wall. Then she bit into its neck, the warm, gamy blood trickling down her throat. She tore into its torso, digging, probing, until she found its heart. But Farkas's mumbling distracted her. She awoke briefly and turned on her side, and Farkas turned with her, lying spoon-style with his arm around her possessively. She went back to sleep and dreamed of the hunt again.

It went on like that all day, and Selene awoke near suppertime having gotten little rest, but she had already grown used to waking up tired. She opened her eyes to see Farkas lying on his side, head propped on his hand, watching her.

"Hey, there."

"Hey, there. You're always watching me sleep."

"I like watching you sleep. During the day, even when you smile, you always look determined, sometimes angry, sometimes sad, like you've got so much on your mind that you can't let your guard down, even for a second. When you sleep, you have this content look on your face. I think it's the only time you're really at peace. You're always beautiful, but when you're asleep, you're like a goddess."

Selene reached up and stroked his cheek, and he bent down to kiss her. They made love again, slower, less feverishly. That morning it had been purely physical, a release of weeks' worth of sexual tension and the rush of the beastblood. Tonight, it was about their connection, their feeling for each other, and Selene couldn't deny that there were feelings that went deeper than sex. She had told Vilkas once that she wanted to love Farkas. She'd have to think on that.

As they lay together later, resting, gaining strength for a night of hunting, Selene played absently with the hairs on his chest.

"That tickles," said Farkas.

"Sorry. Farkas, thank you for bringing me out here and staying with me."

He laughed. "Yeah, I was totally selfless!"

Selene giggled in response. "You know what I mean. So tonight and tomorrow: the same?"

"Mm-hmm. And tomorrow night. After that, it should be okay to go back to town."

"And us?"

"You tell me."

She propped up on an elbow and looked him in the eye. "I don't want to go back to the way we were. I want to be with you, at least for now."

"Thank the Divines!"

They hunted that night, made love and slept the next day, and hunted the next night, some of the wildness waning as the moons started to drift into their next phase. They slept for a while before heading back to Whiterun, and Selene caught herself holding Farkas's hand many times on the trip. _Bad,_ she thought. _Can't defend ourselves against enemies if we're holding hands._ Funny how at times, she didn't really care.

**LINE**

Characters and settings c. 2011 Baethesda Softworks LLC


	9. An Orphan's Tale 9: For Kodlak

An Orphan's Tale 9

For Kodlak

Although Farkas kept his room at Jorrvaskr, he spent most of his free time at Breezehome with Selene. Once in a while, he even referred to the house as "home." She stayed cautious, still of the belief that something would happen to ruin all the good in her life; but for the moment, she was happy.

Selene never knew where Aela got it, but the Huntress came up with information on the Silver Hand on a regular basis, and the two of them embarked on a quest to avenge Skjor. By the first day of spring, they had routed six hideouts and killed no less than thirty Silver Hand. On some level, Selene felt what they were doing was wrong, but every time she entered a lair and saw half a dozen werewolves being tortured or already dead, her vigor and righteous anger was renewed, and she cut the Silver Hand down without mercy or regret. When uncertainty reared its ugly head, she talked to Farkas, who was all for her mission.

"I told you before. It's us or them. If they weren't so bloody cowardly, they would attack Jorrvaskr in a second."

Though Vilkas still didn't talk to her much, she managed to get his opinion as well, and he was as bitter as always. With grim determination, he said, "Every one of them has to die. Don't think for a moment you're not doing the right thing." It was the only positive thing he said to her for months.

First Seed gave way to Rain's Hand, and the beginning of the month lived up to its name. It rained for five days straight. The moat, fountains, and waterfalls around Dragonsreach overflowed, and all the excess water ran down to the Plains District, turning the marketplace into a soggy mess. Arcadia's Cauldron and Belethor's General Store flooded, and at times, the townspeople had to slog through two or three inches of water to get where they were going. Jon Battle-Born joked about buying a boat just to get across the circle to the Bannered Mare.

One morning when the rains were finally letting up and the sun was emerging, Farkas told Selene that Kodlak was looking for her. She made her way through Whiterun's puddled streets to Jorrvaskr and went downstairs to the Harbinger's office.

"Sit down," he offered amicably.

"You wanted to see me?"

"I've been concerned about you and Aela."

"We work to avenge Skjor's death."

"Skjor's death has been avenged many times over, and you've shed far too much blood in the process."

"I'm sorry, Kodlak, but I beg to differ. You haven't seen the Silver Hand's lairs. It's not just us; it's all werewolves, and what they're doing to them is monstrous. Not only have we avenged Skjor, but we've ensured they won't ever harm another werewolf."

Kodlak nodded and sat for a long moment before speaking. He looked tired and thin, as though he hadn't been eating. His wolf armor, which he still insisted on donning every day, hung on his body as if it were mounted on a mannequin.

"What does the beastblood mean to you, Selene?" he asked her finally.

"Well, Vilkas says it's a curse, and Aela says it's a blessing."

"But what does it mean to _you_?"

Selene shrugged. "I guess I think it's both. It's inconvenient and frustrating, but it's also liberating. There's so much to deal with in human form; it's nice to set real life aside and escape into beast form, forget all that for a while."

"I remember when I felt that way," he mused fondly. "The hunt is intoxicating. But as I grow old and ill, my mind turns to thoughts of Sovngarde. Do you know how the Companions originally came to have the beastblood?"

"Again, it depends on who you talk to. Vilkas says curse; Aela says blessing."

"It is different to everyone. Many years ago, one of my predecessors made a deal with a coven of hagravens to make us stronger in battle."

"And they made him a werewolf."

"He did not know the change would be permanent."

"But it worked. We _are_ stronger in battle."

"But at what cost? We are bound to Hircine, daedric prince of the hunt. When we die, we will be taken to his Hunting Grounds, never to see Sovngarde. I have spent my twilight years looking for a way to avoid Hircine and make it to Sovngarde, to find a cure from the beastblood, and I believe I have found it at last. The Glenmoril witches' magicks made us into beasts, and only their magicks can cure us. We must take the head of a Glenmoril witch and cast it into the brazier in Ysgramor's tomb to release our inner wolf spirit, and then we must defeat the wolf."

"I'll bring you a head, Kodlak. I'll get Farkas and leave today."

"No, child. You must do this alone. There are five witches, enough to cure everyone in the Inner Circle."

"But Kodlak, I don't _want_ to be cured. I know Aela doesn't want it, either."

"The choice is yours, of course, but at least you will _have_ the choice. Go now, and don't tell anyone where you are going."

Selene didn't understand why Kodlak wanted to keep the mission secret, but she did as he asked. She did, however, tell Farkas she was leaving. The Companions occasionally went on covert missions, so it wasn't uncommon for them not to be able to tell the others the details. Thus, when he asked where she was going and she told him she couldn't say, he was satisfied with the response. Before she left, she made sure she had plenty of healing potions, as well as some potions to help her resist fire—five witches, five potions. After the fiasco at Orphan Rock, she'd had Farengar enchant a pair of boots with a fire-resist spell; but she wanted to be fully prepared.

Though she didn't have a shield-sibling on this mission, Selene was never truly alone. Liska tagged faithfully along behind her as she hiked southwest through Whiterun and Falkreath Holds. Her constant companion gekkered merrily at her as they walked, curled up next to her when they camped, and brought her mice for breakfast.

"Stupid animal," Selene groused as she picked her latest gift up by the tail and flung it into the woods. "You're a fox, not a cat."

"Wow-wow-wow-wow!" Liska replied.

"Oh, sure. You always say that." Selene chuckled to herself. "You know, I used to have conversations with a dead guy who never answered. Now I have them with a fox who never says anything but 'wow.'"

After two days and nights on the road, Selene and Liska finally arrived at the cave that housed the Glenmoril Coven. The entrance was hidden in a nook in the side of a mountain at the very western reaches of Falkreath Hold, difficult to find and hard to get to. The outside of the cave was decorated (if one could call it that) with animal skeletons and spriggan taproots. An empty cauldron rested at the base of a dead tree, and two braziers lit the entrance.

A rotten, putrid odor emanated from the cave, and Selene cringed. If it smelled that bad out here, what would her enhanced sense of smell be subjected to after she went in? She stepped away from the cave and breathed in fresh air, steeling herself for the onslaught. She didn't want to be slain by some hag because she had to stop mid-battle and throw up due to the stench. When she was confident she could do what had to be done without losing her lunch, she turned to Liska and said, "You stay out here, little one." Then she drew her bow and stepped into the cave.

Selene thought about the hagraven Vilkas had killed at Orphan Rock. They'd had no end of trouble with that one, and now she was facing five. She figured the best way to fight them was to shoot from the shadows and avoid a stand-up fight. She just hoped they weren't all together.

If she believed in luck, she would have said it was on her side. As she emerged from the entrance tunnel into the first room, she saw one of the Glenmoril witches standing at a cauldron, stirring whatever disgusting mixture she was working on. She was alone except for a frostbite spider that meandered around the cavern, and Selene had a clear shot. She ducked back into the darkness of the tunnel and downed a potion; then she drew her bow, pausing long enough for the spider to crawl farther into the room, and released the arrow. It hit, and the hagraven screamed and dropped to the floor. Selene resisted the urge to say, "Shh!" Fortunately, it seemed the only one to take note of her distress was the spider, who came running and died quickly as Selene's next arrow pierced its body. She drew her sword, went over to the witch and pulled her up by the greasy, tangled hair. Inky black eyes stared blankly up at Selene as she hacked the head from her body. "One down, four to go," she muttered as she stuffed the foul head in her bag.

The next three and their familiars were relatively easy, each of them alone in a room off a dark tunnel and out in the open. Selene almost regretted wasting her fire-resist potions. The last one, however, was problematic. She crouched on a platform behind an arcane enchanter, which was nestled between two trees and surrounded by large, wooden spikes. There was no easy way to get a shot from the tunnel, so Selene drank her last potion and drew her bow, stepping cautiously into the room. The familiar, a feral skeever, attacked her instantly, and she had to use the arrow to kill it. The fracas alerted the hagraven, who started down a short slope toward her. She was able to get another arrow nocked, but she didn't get a good enough draw before shooting; and though the witch flinched at the pain, she wasn't badly injured. Selene dropped the bow and drew her sword.

"The beast returns," the hagraven croaked with her hands raised, magic pulsing in her palms. "You belong to Hircine now."

"Ha, and what about you? Where you will go when I kill you?" Selene dodged the fireball the witch lobbed at her and moved in closer, swinging hard, and caught her in the left arm. The hagraven shrieked and sent another fireball at Selene. The potion finally came in handy, because this one hit. It still hurt, but it didn't do the damage the one at Orphan Rock had done. Mostly, it just pissed her off. "You're done, bitch!" she snarled as she shoved her sword at the hag's ribs. It sliced into her flesh, and blood spurted; with a final cry, the witch dropped. Selene paused a moment to catch her breath, then reached for the hagraven and chopped off her head; but it appeared the witch wasn't done yet. She suddenly stood up, headless, her arms out as if for balance. "Sweet Kynareth!" Selene cried as she swung her sword again, all but cutting her in half. This time, she stayed down.

With all five heads safely in her sack, Selene looked around for any loot she might sell. She picked up a few potions, soul gems, and ingredients, then headed for the exit. Once outside, she took a deep, cleansing breath, relieved to finally be away from the fetid reek of the cave. Liska came up to her, cooing joyfully, and Selene said, "You won't believe what happened in there!"

She told Liska about the hag who refused to lie down as they headed down the mountain, the vixen not understanding a word she said but gekkering sympathetically nonetheless. She also told her about the familiars. "That's a really neat idea," she claimed. "I wonder if I could tap into that magic somehow and make you a familiar. I'll have to talk to Farengar about that. Ha, Vilkas and Farkas's heads would spin around if I started using magic!"

Selene hiked for several miles before making camp. After the fight, her beastblood was itching to get out, so she shifted to her beast form and hunted before returning to camp and trying to get some rest. It was a long night. Her blood still boiled from the fight and the hunt, and the urge to mate was excruciating. She hadn't shifted to beast form without making love with Farkas afterward since her first full moon, and her body ached for his touch. Somewhere toward morning, having only gotten about an hour's sleep, she finally said, "Screw it," and broke camp.

She stayed at the inn in Riverwood the next night, exhausted and not close enough to home to stick it out any longer. Selene had been fortunate to have good weather on her trip, but the next morning was overcast, with distant thunder heralding an oncoming storm. She and Liska started out for Whiterun, moving as fast as they could in the hope of getting home before the rain. But it wasn't just the ominous sky that worried Selene. As she neared town, a terrible sense of foreboding came over her. The pack was in distress; something was very wrong.

It was just starting to sprinkle when they got into town. Liska stopped at the door to Breezehome and gave a short bark, and Selene let her into the house before continuing on up to Jorrvaskr. She smelled blood when she entered the market district and sprinted up the stairs to find half the town standing around the Gildergreen, looking up at the mead hall. Aela and Torvar stood over two dead bodies at the top of the hill.

"What happened?" Selene asked as she climbed the steps.

"The Silver Hand," Torvar anwered.

She ran past them and threw open the door to the mead hall to find Vilkas standing in the doorway.

"Where have you been?" he asked, glaring daggers at her.

"I was doing Kodlak's bidding."

"Well, I hope it was important, because it means you weren't here to defend him."

"Vilkas, what happened?"

"The Silver Hand. They finally had the courage to attack Jorrvaskr. We were able to fight them off, but the old man, Kodlak..."

"Oh, no." She stepped around Vilkas to find the Harbinger lying dead on the steps with Farkas and Njada sitting next to him. "Farkas?" she started.

"Leave him alone," said Vilkas.

She turned back to him. "Anybody else?"

"No, but they made off with the fragments of Wuuthrad. You and I are going to get them. And we're going to slaughter every Silver Hand between us and them."

"Okay. I need to stop at Breezehome first and—"

"We go _now_."

"I have several heads weighing me down, I need to let Liska out, and I'm down to a couple dozen arrows."

"Liska stays here."

Anger surged within Selene, and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to maintain control. When she was confident she wouldn't shout, she said, "Fine. But I can't leave her in the house for several days, now, can I? I'm going to have to bring her up here."

"Well, make it fast."

She bent down and kissed the top of Farkas's head, then turned and left Jorrvaskr, Vilkas trailing behind. She stopped at the Skyforge and bought arrows from Eorland before heading home. Lydia was sitting at the kitchen table, eating lunch.

"How'd it go?" she asked, but she immediately sensed the tension in the air and excused herself. "I'll just go to the barracks for a while."

"We won't be here long. You can stay."

"You should go," Vilkas told her. Selene turned to glare at Vilkas, and he met her eyes aggressively.

"Okay, Lydia," she relented. "Give us a few minutes."

When her housecarl was gone, Selene said, "Vilkas, why are you being like this?"

"You should have been here. It's early. You stopped, where, in Riverwood? You could have made it home last night."

"Believe me, if I'd known what was going to happen, I would have. But you can't blame me for Kodlak's death just because I spent the night on the road."

"Watch me."

"You're being unreasonable. In fact, you've been unreasonable a lot lately."

His scent was already permeated with anger, but fresh rage flooded through it and his face turned red. "Oh, no! Don't make this about me."

"Isn't it always about you? You've been angry at me since I became a werewolf."

"This has nothing to do with you being born into the fucking pack! It has to do with you not being where you should be. Had you been in town, you'd have been here instead of Jorrvaskr, and you _still_ wouldn't have been there to defend him."

"Well, what about you, Vilkas?" she shouted. "I might not have been there, but you were. Why couldn't _you_ defend him? I'd say you're more to blame than me."

With lightning speed, Vilkas's hand lashed out and backhanded Selene across the face hard enough to spin her around. She stood there, her back to him, immobilized with shock and dismay, her cheek smarting and her eye throbbing. Had it been most anybody else, she would have turned around and attacked, fists flying. But Vilkas, once her closest friend, knowing what had happened in Cyrodiil and smacking her anyway just as the Imperial soldier had done, broke her heart. She gasped, and tears welled in her eyes.

"Selene—"

"You need to go now," Selene said without turning around.

"Selene, I'm—"

"You need to go now," she said more forcefully.

Without another word, Vilkas turned and left the house, and Selene crumpled to the floor and sobbed.

* * *

Characters and settings c. 2011 Bethesda Softworks LLC


	10. An Orphan's Tale 10: Pilgrimage

An Orphan's Tale 10

Pilgrimage

Lydia came back a few minutes after Vilkas had left and knelt by Selene. "By the eight, what happened?"

"Lydia, could you take some fresh water up to my room for me?"

"Did Vilkas do that to your face?"

"I really don't want to talk about it."

"As you wish, my Thane."

When Lydia came back with water, Selene went upstairs, undressed and washed up. Her left eye throbbed and her vision was fuzzy, and when she looked in the mirror she saw that it was swelling shut and a terrible bruise was forming on her cheek. Vilkas had hit her hard—in more ways than one. She put on a clean dress and lay on the bed, trying to blot out the day's events, but they bombarded her mind relentlessly. The Silver Hand had attacked and taken the fragments. Kodlak was dead. Vilkas had struck her.

_Vilkas had struck her._

She'd been hit by guys before. She was a warrior, for Kyne's sake; she fought all the time. But this was different. It wasn't some bandit or a thug in a bar picking a fight; it was Vilkas. No one else could have hurt her as badly, not even Farkas.

Selene had waited for this day for months now, the day when the happiness she had found at Jorrvaskr would be shattered. What did she do now? Did she leave? Did she stay with the Companions and pretend nothing had happened? Did she kick Vilkas's ass? As if she could. Well, she certainly couldn't pretend nothing had happened. Things had been tense with Vilkas for months; they would be intolerable now. But she didn't know if she wanted to leave altogether. Selene had never felt so at home in her life. The Companions were her family, her brothers and sisters. Torvar and Athis were her drinking buddies, and she had spent many nights sitting up gossiping with Ria and Njada. Aela was her forebear, and they had a connection beyond friendship. Of course, she didn't want to leave Farkas. They had managed to keep things from getting too serious—little more than friends with benefits, really—but Selene hadn't completely discounted the notion that they might actually have a future together.

She needed time to think, to piece things together, weigh the possibilities, and figure out her priorities. Was the security of the Companions worth having to live with her broken relationship with Vilkas, or was it time to move on? She should have known better than to get so close to them. How many times had she said everyone always lets you down in the end? True, it was only Vilkas who had let her down, but now that he had, how long would be before the others did, too?

Selene smelled Farkas before he pounded on the door. Lydia let him in, and he came up the stairs without even speaking to the housecarl. His scent was filled with grief, anger, and concern, and one look at him told her everything else she needed to know. His left eye was red from tears, and his right was bloodshot, the skin around it swollen and purple.

"We match," she quipped.

"Let me see." He examined her face, pressing her swollen eye gingerly. "How bad does it hurt?"

Selene shrugged. "I'm tough. What happened to you?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Let's just say he got worse than he gave."

"How did you even—"

"Lydia."

"Damn it, Lydia! So you retaliated? Defended my honor?"

Farkas nodded with a chuckle. "Broke his jaw."

"Farkas, you shouldn't have done that."

"What happened? Why did he hit you?"

"I'd rather keep that between myself and him, if that's okay."

"Of course." He leaned in and kissed her forehead, then lay down next to her and took her in his arms. "What are you gonna do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know you, Selene. You're not just gonna let this go. You're gonna see it as a betrayal, refuse to forgive him, and leave or something."

Selene closed her eyes and lay her head on his chest. She didn't like that he knew her so well. "I think I'll go up to High Hrothgar and see the Graybeards. I should have done that months ago."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"No, I need some time to myself so I can sort all this out."

"You know he's sorry he hit you."

"It's more complicated than that."

"Why? I don't understand that. You were fine until this one thing."

"Farkas, if this one thing sent me into such a spiral, maybe I wasn't fine after all. All I know is I need some time to myself. High Hrothgar is supposed to be really serene. Maybe I can find some peace up there."

He ran his hand comfortingly over her back. "Then take what time you need, love. Just take care of yourself."

"You, too. And take care of him. No matter what I'm feeling right now, I know he needs it."

When Farkas left, Selene picked herself up and began packing for her trip. There was no point putting it off; might as well get out now instead of brooding over it. Besides, it was a long trip around the mountain to Ivarstead and then up the Seven Thousand Steps to High Hrothgar; so she might as well get started. There was little chance spring had come to the mountain, so she could probably expect snow; and she couldn't forget the possibility of frost trolls and ice wraiths. Good. Something to take out her frustrations on. Besides, the sooner she got away from Whiterun, the better.

"When will you return?" Lydia asked her as she walked through the living room wearing her armor and carrying her weapons and backpack.

"I don't know. Part of me wants to say 'never,' but I know that's not true."

"I'll take care of things here," she assured her thane.

"Come on, Liska." Selene left the house—_her_ house—the only thing she had ever really owned, and marched to the city gate, waving at Adrianne Avenicci as she passed.

An orc stopped her just as she was about to open the gate. "Warrior," he called. "I'm here to present you with an opportunity. The Dawnguard is reforming, and we are looking for able-bodied men and women to fight for us."

"What's the Dawnguard?"

"It is an order of warriors put together to fight the growing threat of vampires in Skyrim."

"I haven't noticed much of a threat, really."

"Then you haven't been paying attention. Vampires attacked the Hall of the Vigilants and destroyed it, decimating the Vigilants of Stendarr. While they used to keep to themselves and only come out to feed, they have become bolder of late and have started terrorizing the cities and highways. We believe something big is in the works, and we have set out to stop it."

Selene knew all about the Vigilants of Stendarr. They concerned themselves mostly with daedra worship and didn't normally bother themselves with other creatures. Then again, as a werewolf, she was bound to the daedric prince Hircine. While she had no love of vampires, joining such a group could be very dangerous for her.

"What about werewolves?" she queried.

"What about them?"

"Do you hunt them as well?"

He narrowed his eyes and studied her critically, and Selene could have sworn he was sniffing her. The Orsimer didn't have enhanced senses of smell as far as she knew, but her knowledge of the race was far from comprehensive, so who knew? "Why? Do you know any?"

"Just asking."

"As long as they don't pose a threat to the public, we'd leave them alone. Any slip-ups, however, would be dealt with harshly."

It was Selene's turn to sniff him, and he wasn't lying. "I'm on my way to do something else right now," she said, "but maybe I'll go check it out after that."

He nodded curtly. "Fort Dawnguard is in the mountains southeast of Riften. Speak to Isran. Good day, warrior."

She had told Farkas she needed time to think, and she spent the two-day trip to Ivarstead doing just that. It wasn't just the fight with Vilkas weighing on her mind now; the Orc's proposal intrigued her. For him to show up just when she was thinking of moving on to other things was a happy coincidence, but at this point she didn't think she could trust them to just let her lycanthropy go. In addition, Grelod the Kind started to invade her thoughts again. She was still in Riften, abusing children physically and verbally, and though Selene was having second thoughts about revenge, she still felt the matron had to be stopped.

She discussed her concerns with Liska, who cooed dutifully in response, but as usual the fox didn't offer anything more than encouraging coos. Selene did ponder the Dawnguard and Grelod, but her thoughts inevitably veered back to Vilkas. She felt hurt, betrayed, hopeless. She waffled between wanting to kill Vilkas and wanting to kill herself. It would never happen, of course; suicide was a coward's way out, and she was too strong for that. But loneliness was a powerful thing, and she wasn't used to it. She had been lonely after Ben died, but she had adjusted. Then when she met the Companions, she forgot how to be alone. Now it looked like she would have to get used to it again, because she couldn't go back there. How could she ever look at Vilkas again? Farkas had called it "this one thing," as if that made it insignificant. Why couldn't understand that "this one thing" had changed everything? She wondered if Vilkas understood it.

Selene was skittish during the trip, apprehensive about having to fight bandits or wild animals with inadequate vision; but thankfully, the trip was uneventful. She arrived in Ivarstead late in the afternoon and decided to stay at the Vilemyr Inn for the night. The innkeeper, who said his name was Wilhelm, allowed Liska to stay in her room as long as she didn't make a mess. He was friendly and accommodating, and he even brought in some fresh water so Selene could wash. She braved a look in the mirror and grimaced at her reflection. The entire left side of her face had turned several shades of purple and blue, the outline of Vilkas's fingers clearly etched on her skin. It was no wonder her vision hadn't yet returned to normal; her eye was still severely swollen. Selene was just thankful he hadn't been wearing gauntlets.

"Does it hurt?" Wilhelm, who Selene didn't even realize was still in the room, asked her sympathetically. She turned to see him leaning in the door frame, arms folded. He was fiftyish, balding, rather nondescript, with warm, kind eyes that hinted at great compassion. She imagined he was experienced in hearing all sorts of tales from weary, lonely travelers.

"A bit," she responded coolly, "but believe me, I've had worse. Nothing like a good brawl."

"And your opponent?"

"I heard he sustained a broken jaw." She didn't bother mentioning that she hadn't been the one to break it.

"If you need a potion for pain, I'm sure I have something."

"Thanks, but I brought my own."

"Good night, then. Let me know if you need anything."

The next morning dawned bright and sunny, and Selene hoped the good weather would last all the way up the mountain. Seven Thousand Steps. She wondered how they knew. Were they numbered? Had somebody counted them? She figured _somebody_ had counted them at some point; hundreds of pilgrims had navigated the steps. Well, Selene certainly didn't intend to try. She could imagine getting to 3,500 and thinking, _ugh, I'm only halfway there._

As she started across the bridge leading from Ivarstead to the trail, Selene met two men, a haggard Nord who was probably younger than he looked and a cheerful wood elf, leaning against the low, stone wall and having a friendly chat.

"Are you going up to High Hrothgar today?" the Bosmer asked the Nord.

"It would be a good day to go," said the Nord, "but I find I'm reluctant to make the trip these days. It gets harder every time." He looked up to see Selene approach and said, "Good morning, lass."

"Good morning. Did I hear you talking about a trip up the Seven Thousand Steps?"

The elf nodded an amicable greeting and walked back toward town.

"Aye. I take salted meats and supplies to the monks periodically. They're not ones to come down the mountain to shop, if you catch my meaning."

"Are you compensated for that?"

"The Graybeards and I have an understanding. Besides, it wouldn't feel right charging them for a bit of preserved food. The thing is, my legs aren't what they used to be and the way is treacherous."

"I'm going up there anyway. Would you like me to take them up for you?"

The man's face lit up. "I would be much obliged. I'm Klimmek."

"Selene."

"Well, Selene, this is a great weight off my shoulders. Literally."

"I'm glad to help."

"Come with me." Klimmek led her through town to his house, where he retrieved a heavy satchel and handed it to her. "Too much?"

Selene hoisted the satchel over her shoulder. "Not at all. I'm stronger than I look. Anything I should be aware of on the trip up?"

"Nothing someone like you couldn't handle. Some wolves, perhaps a frost troll. The stones are icy, so watch your footing, especially with your injured eye. I would imagine you're not seeing very well out of it, and it would be a shame to slip and fall because of poor vision. And watch out for your little friend, there. Wandering off the path could be dangerous."

"Will do." She stepped off Klimmek's porch and headed back through town and across the bridge. At the base of the mountain was indeed a set of stairs. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Selene had thought "steps" might be a metaphor, but there they were, and they carried the promise of enlightenment as they ascended the hill and curved around the first bend. Selene stepped off the path onto the first step. _That's one,_ she thought. "None of that," she grunted and began the long hike.

She had imagined a heavenly staircase leading to High Hrothgar, something one might see in Sovngarde: gleaming white with golden railing and distant choirs singing praises to the gods. She obviously hadn't thought it through. The reality of the Seven Thousand Steps couldn't have been further from her idea. The steps were cracked and worn after centuries of exposure to the elements. They weren't constant; large gaps interrupted the flow, and at times, the steps actually went downhill. The winds were fairly calm, so she didn't worry about getting blown over the side. The air was crisp and cold, and the sky was crystal clear. If she stood at the edge, she could see all the way to the ground below.

Grottos graced the trail periodically, etched tablets within imparting the tale of the Dragon War and how the Voice was used to defeat the dragons. Selene was delighted to find that the Voice was a gift from Kynareth. She and someone named Paarthurnax had given the Voice to the humans to aid them in their campaign against the dragons that oppressed and enslaved them. Seeing her patron goddess credited with such a gift encouraged Selene and strengthened her resolve. Just when she began to think there was no place for her, no purpose other than to survive, Kynareth gave her a gentle nudge in the right direction.

Whiterun, when it came into view, took her breath away. "Oh, my," she gasped, taking in the sight of Dragonsreach, resplendent even from this staggering height. She could see Breezehome as well; a sunbeam illuminated the little house like a beacon. And then there was Jorrvaskr, nestled in Dragonsreach's shadow as the late-afternoon sun began to sink. The fires of the Skyforge burned brightly in the dimming light. Selene could imagine the brothers, having finished their training for the day, sitting on the back porch and sharing a tankard of mead. Well, maybe not today; Vilkas wouldn't be drinking from a tankard for quite some time. She wondered how he would eat and drink with his jaw sewn shut. Perhaps they could cut a reed in such a way that they could poke it through the stitches so he could drink potions and water. He and Farkas would have made up by now; they couldn't stay angry with each other. Selene sighed dismally, wondering if she would ever set foot in the mead hall again.

The sun dropped below the horizon, and the light began to wane. Liska grumbled, and Selene tore herself away from the view. High Hrothgar was just ahead, and she might as well get going so she could be inside before nightfall. The monastery was dark and forbidding, the charcoal-gray stone of the walls only broken up by the black of the windows. More steps—conventional ones, this time—led up to the tribute chest, which stood at the foot of an imposing tower jutting out from the main building, then around the tower to two gigantic doors. Selene climbed the stairs to the chest, where she placed Klimmek's supplies, and then took the left branch the rest of the way up. There was no bell, no knocker, nothing to alert the Graybeards to her presence, so she pushed the door inward.

* * *

Characters and settings c. 2011 Bethesda Softworks LLC


	11. An Orphan's Tale 11: Communion with Kyne

An Orphan's Tale 11

Communion with Kyne

The door was lighter than expected and swung open easily, and Selene stepped inside, Liska slipping in past her feet. The entryway opened onto a small gathering space dominated by even more steps, which led to an altar and then on to a mezzanine level. Many candles lit the hall, and the air was pleasantly warm. The air of peace and calm was evident right away, and Selene instantly felt relaxed and reassured.

After she had taken only a few steps, four heavily robed monks entered the hall, two by the stairs and two from the corridors emanating from it. One of the monks who came down the stairs approached and stopped before her.

"And so a Dragonborn appears at this particular point in time. Why have you come to us?"

"I answered your summons. I want to know what it means to be Dragonborn."

"First we must make certain you _are_ Dragonborn. You should be able to project your Voice into a Shout, or Thu'um."

Selene nodded. "I can do that."

"Perhaps you could demonstrate for us."

Selene balked. True she couldn't exactly Shout somebody apart like Ulfric Stormcloak, but this was an old man.

"Go on, then," Master Arngeir prodded. "Be assured, you will not hurt us."

Selene gathered her will and her breath, concentrating on the word as it blazed through her mind. _"FUS!"_ she Shouted, and the Graybeard stumbled backward, flailing his arms wildly to maintain his balance.

He steadied himself and straightened his robes, then took a step toward her. "So it is true: you are Dragonborn. I am Master Arngeir; I speak for the Graybeards."

"The others don't speak?" she asked, glancing around at them. They all stood with their hands tucked into the sleeves of their robes, each giving her a smile and a nod as she looked at them.

"They practice the Way of the Voice," the master explained, "living in silence and only speaking in praise to the gods."

"I read about the Way of the Voice on my way up the Seven Thousand Steps," she remembered. "The stone tablets along the trail."

"Aye, a brief tale of the Dragon War and the origins of the Way of the Voice." He leaned his head toward her. "We will teach you much more, Dragonborn."

"I'm ready to learn, then."

* * *

Selene spent a month at High Hrothgar, studying, meditating, and practicing her Thu'um. The Graybeards worshiped Kynareth, and Selene felt right at home within the walls and on the grounds. It was as serene as the stories had said, and she found it easy to relax her body and focus her mind. She slept better than she had since she had taken the beastblood, and many of the kinks and aches she felt in her muscles worked themselves out. She felt closer to Kynareth, as if Her spirit infused the very stone of the walls, and at times Selene almost expected to look over her shoulder and find her patron standing behind her. She spent a lot of time sitting in the courtyard or on the rocks overlooking Whiterun, looking up at the night sky and pondering Kynareth's mysteries to gain a greater understanding of the goddess. During her travels she had often heard the term "Mother Nature," and as she lay and watched the stars move across the sky with the icy air stinging her cheeks and her breath rising from her nose and mouth in misty clouds, comprehension of the term seeped into her soul in much the same way as knowledge of the Shouts had done. Kynareth—Kyne—truly was the Mother of Men, the Mother of Nature, and Mother of the Voice. She had given men the power of the Thu'um in order to defeat the dragons, and now it was Selene's turn. As Dragonborn, Selene was Her champion. Though the Dragon Blood was a gift from Akatosh, it was Kynareth who gave her the Voice, showed her how to use it, and guided her toward her destiny.

She learned the second word of power in the Unrelenting Force Shout, of which there were three, according to Master Arngeir. She also learned the first word of Whirlwind Sprint, an ability that could come in very handy if Selene ever got over being afraid of it. When she Shouted, her body rocketed forward with the speed of the wind, coming to rest far across the courtyard behind the monastery. She was always afraid she would overshoot and wind up flying off the mountain and splatter on the ground below or misjudge her direction and crash into a wall. And this was with just one of the three words. All three might send her for miles. Selene practiced with those words, as well as the Fire Breath Shout she had learned in Dustman's Cairn and the Frost Breath she had absorbed at Bonestrewn Crest, until she no longer needed to concentrate and muster her will. She could simply open her mouth and utter the words to produce the desired effect. Master Arngeir told her that there were dozens of words of power, and the walls containing them were scattered all over Skyrim, waiting for her to find them and that he could help direct her to the walls when the winds brought him word of them.

He told her the Shouts were in the dragon language. "Dragons use their Thu'um to bring forth fire or frost, to calm their opponent, even to negate their armor," he claimed. "A battle between two dragons is little more than a very heated verbal argument."

"But you said the Voice is only to be used for peaceful pursuits," she protested. "All the Shouts you mentioned are combat related. It doesn't make any sense."

"Combat between _dragons,_ yes. However, just because they are combat related does not mean they should be used as such. Jurgen Windcaller taught that the Voice should be used for the worship and glory of the gods, not the glory of men."

"I don't understand that at all."

"You will in time."

"Master, I worship Kynareth as you do, but I don't subscribe to the Way of the Voice. Why teach it to me?"

"As Dragonborn, many of the rules don't apply to you. Your presence in this world is a gift from Akatosh. How can we accept one gift and deny another?"

"So I'm supposed to use the Shouts in combat?"

Master Arngeir furrowed his brow and did not reply.

When she wasn't learning about the Way of the Voice or communing with Kynareth, Selene spent a lot of time in quiet contemplation. Not that it did much good. While it was easy to organize her thoughts regarding the metaphysical, the practical and emotional still confused her. Yes, she was placed in the world to fight dragons, but how was she to fight all of them? And what did the appearance of the black dragon have to do with it? He wasn't just an ordinary dragon; of that she was sure. He played a bigger part than the others, and at some point, Selene would meet him again. How did she prepare for such an encounter? And what was she to do in the meantime?

Grelod the Kind was still there as well, of course, and there was the Dawnguard to consider. Fighting vampires would give her a chance to hone her skills and help rid the world of evil. She would have to be cautious, though. There was always the chance that as an offshoot of the Vigilants of Stendarr, they would turn on her at some point. Besides, there was always a chance they would turn on her anyway, wasn't there?

Selene missed Farkas, his optimistic nature, the way he instinctively knew the right thing to say or do to make her smile, his strength, his lips, the feel of his body as they lay tangled together. As much as she hated to admit it, she missed Vilkas, too. She wanted to hold onto her anger as she always had. He had done nothing but proven that even those closest to you would betray you if given the opportunity. Her bruises healed and her vision returned to normal, but Selene's heart remained broken and battered. The look on Vilkas's face when he had struck her was burned in her mind, as was the sting of his slap and the throb of her eye as it swelled shut. He had been devastated by Kodlak's murder and looking for someone to blame besides himself. Although she would accept no responsibility for the Harbinger's death or Vilkas's assault, she couldn't deny the fact that she had provoked him. Everyone was accountable for their own actions, but she had struck a chord when she hinted that he hadn't been able to protect Kodlak. But when she wasn't remembering the anger in his eyes, all she could think about when she pictured his face was the way he would gaze into her eyes as he would no one else's and confess his deepest desires, fears, and regrets—or when he would give her a rare smile. She might never see that smile again. It was his fault, of course, but that didn't make it any easier on her.

On a clear, spring night, Selene sat on the rocks outside the monastery and watched the city below. The lights of Dragonsreach shone invitingly, bringing to mind the first time she had come around the bend on the road from Riverwood and seen the castle. It could be seen halfway across the hold, and she had often stopped and gaped in awe at the magnificent palace, sitting atop its hill like a king on a throne, holding dominion over the tundra. The Skyforge glowed as well, but Jorrvaskr was just a dark blob amidst the lights. There were few windows, and the little light they emitted could not be seen from this distance. The inside would be brightly lit, though, the vast fire pit and dozens of candles twinkling merrily; and at least two or three of the Companions would be sitting at the table, drinking and sharing stories or songs. Selene wondered what the brothers were doing. Vilkas's jaw would be healed by now, so perhaps they _were_ sitting on the back porch, sharing a tankard of mead. Perhaps they were thinking about her, too, maybe talking about missions they had been on or adventures they'd had. Or maybe Vilkas despised her and poured his heart out to Farkas about the bitterness he was feeling.

In the past weeks of meditation, she came to accept that she had a destiny, that she was meant for something important, and she may not figure out what that was if she never left Whiterun. She had to move on, leave Jorrvaskr and never look back. Didn't she? But how could she leave without even saying goodbye? Then again, there was nothing to say she could _never_ look back, was there? She could go back to visit. Couldn't she?

"Oh, Kynareth, tell me what to do!" Selene wailed. Kynareth, of course, didn't answer.

Liska, who had been off hunting somewhere, padded up and climbed into Selene's lap, and she scratched the fox behind the ears. "Aye, you can hunt," she complained, "but imagine trying to tell the Graybeards I need to disappear for a night because I'm a werewolf. I'm sure that would go over well." She sat for a few more minutes, then sighed and said, "Okay, little one. Let's go to bed."

When Selene's head hit the pillow, she instantly felt the pull of the void, drawing her down into a comfortable blackness. And she dreamed. She knew it was a dream because she was pretty sure there was no place like this anywhere near Skyrim, possibly in all of Nirn. She sat in a meadow on a midnight-blue blanket surrounded by pink-blossomed trees. Sunshine passed through the trees and dappled the grass and blanket with myriad spots of light, as if she were sitting on the stars. A picnic was laid out before her—wine, cheese, and many different types of fruit, some of which she couldn't identify. A gentle breeze blew through her hair, and the leaves and branches soughed soothingly. The breeze itself seemed to emanate from her companion, a willowy woman in a silken gown of pale green. Her skin was ivory and completely flawless, and her silvery hair shimmered with subtle hints of color, as if a thousand tiny rainbows were hidden among the tresses. She handed Selene a heart-shaped piece of fruit, bright red in color and covered with seeds.

Selene took the fruit and bit into it, savoring the sweet essence. "Mmm, it's delicious," she said with her mouth full. "I've never tasted anything like it."

"It's from another place," the woman replied.

"Where am I?"

"Nowhere."

"Sovngarde? Am I dead?"

The woman waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, no, nothing as extreme as that. You're simply at peace in your own mind."

"There's no such thing as peace."

"Oh, but there is, child."

Selene peered at the woman curiously. She was too fine of feature to be a Nord, too tall to be a Breton, too fair to be a Redguard, and she was no elf. "K-kynareth?"

Her companion laughed girlishly. "Come now, Selene. You know the Divines don't appear to mortals. Well, usually anyway. It matters naught who I am."

"It matters to me. If I'm speaking with my goddess, I really should be more respectful."

"Perhaps I'm your own mind, helping you sort things out."

"Fine. Sort. Maybe you can do a better job than me."

"You know, you're quite cynical for a champion of the gods."

"All right, now you're just making fun of me."

The goddess/daedra/figment of her imagination reached out to select another piece of the seedy fruit and bit into it, closing her eyes and savoring the bite. The wind picked up a bit while she enjoyed the fruit. When she swallowed and opened her eyes, it calmed again. "Mortals often get so caught up in details that they have trouble finding their true purpose. But the details don't matter."

"I don't think the Companions are a detail."

"You believe you were put in the world for a grand destiny, no? One purpose?"

"Perhaps."

"If that is so, it makes the Companions a detail. What you must ask yourself is whether you were put in this world for _one_ thing or _many_. If Dragonborn is what you are and nothing else, if you were born solely to fight dragons, why do the Companions matter at all? Farkas has been your shield-brother, no? You've saved his life. He was your lover; you gave yourself to him and alleviated his loneliness. But if your destiny is to kill dragons, who cares? It is of no consequence that Vilkas found someone to share his grief with, and it doesn't matter that the lessons he has learned from hurting you will carry him the rest of his life. And the fact that you can _still cure Kodlak_ means nothing."

"Wait, I can what?"

"His spirit lingers in Ysgramor's tomb, hiding from Hircine. The witch's head, thrown into the brazier, may still save his soul."

"But one of the others can do that."

"The others don't know about it. You do."

"So I should stay with the Companions?"

"You should _return_ to the Companions. You have unfinished business there. But when that business is done, it is time to move on. Others are waiting for you. Yes, you are Dragonborn. You were sent here to rid the world of the dragon. You were also sent to save Ben, to cure Kodlak, and a host of other things. I won't spoil the mystery by telling you what they are. Selene, everything we do affects the world around us. You know this. A kind word, a gesture, even a glance in the right direction at the right moment can do more than you can imagine. Not long ago, you did a favor for a tired man and gave him time to take care of other tasks that were piling up, and you made a lifelong friend. Think how your life would have gone if someone else had been playing near you when Grelod went in for a nap and you had taken them over the wall instead of Ben. Or if Aela had spent your first full moon with you instead of Farkas. Or if you had waited that extra day to come back to Skyrim from Cyrodiil. Ralof would be dead now; do you know that? The Imperials you encountered would have overwhelmed him, and he would have perished before he ever found the cave from which you escaped.

"How do _you_ know that?"

"Go back to Jorrvaskr, child. The Companions need you. _Kodlak_ needs you."

"Then what?"

"The Graybeards will have a quest for you. Bring them their trinket and look for signs. The winds will guide you. Have another strawberry."

Selene took another piece of the succulent fruit, and as she took a bite she awoke, the sweet, tangy flavor still on her lips. Liska was curled up at the end of her bed, making the most gods-awful sounds. "Maybe while she was telling me all this stuff, she could have told me how to keep you from snoring," she told the snoozing vixen before turning over and throwing the covers over her head. She couldn't imagine actually going back to sleep after that, but she had to try. Tomorrow was a big day. Tomorrow, she would go home.

* * *

Characters and settings c. 2011 Bethesda Softworks LLC


	12. An Orphan's Tale 12: Redemption

An Orphan's Tale 12

Redemption

Selene opened Jorrvaskr's heavy, wooden doors and lugged the sack of heads inside. She was surprised they didn't stink with decay, but they actually smelled better than the witches did when they were alive. Maybe their body composition somehow kept them from rotting. In any case, it had been encouraging to walk into Breezehome and not be attacked by the odor of dead hagraven. She was sure Lydia was just as glad. She wasn't sure, however, if walking into Jorrvaskr would be as heartening. She still had no idea what she was going to say to Vilkas or even if she was ready to forgive him. Besides, who knew if he was ready to forgive _her?_ She had said some hurtful things to him too. Fortunately, he wasn't in the mead hall when she entered, giving her at least a few moments' reprieve.

Aela came up the steps to meet her, arms out. "Greetings, shield-sister," she said as she hugged Selene.

"I missed you."

The Huntress pulled back and looked her over. "You're looking well. Did you find what you were looking for at High Hrothgar?"

"I did. And I know what I need to do next. Are Farkas and Vilkas around?"

"They're in the training yard."

"Can you get them and meet me in the Underforge?"

"Of course."

Selene went to the tiny room beneath the Skyforge, dropped the bag of heads on the floor, and waited for the rest of the Inner Circle. When they came in, Farkas came straight to her and gathered her up into a bear hug, planting a warm kiss on her lips. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming back at all."

"I'm not staying long," she informed him, "but we have unfinished business." She reached into the bag and pulled out one of the heads.

"Pretty," Farkas joked.

"She'll look better when you find out what she can do. I believe we can still cure Kodlak."

"How?" Vilkas asked.

"Before I went to the Glenmoril Coven, Kodlak told me that the witch's head, thrown into the brazier in Ysgramor's tomb, would release his wolf spirit and we could defeat it. I was told that it still might work, even though he's dead."

"Told by who?"

"Don't ask," she replied. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"But we can't even get into Ysgramor's tomb without Wuuthrad," Aela protested. "And even if we get the pieces back, it's still just that: in pieces."

"Not necessarily," said a voice from the door. The Circle looked around to see Eorland Gray-Mane standing in the doorway. "Kodlak kept a piece of the blade in his room. If you get the other fragments back, I will have all of them. Wuuthrad is a tool, and tools were made to be broken and repaired. If you bring me the fragments, I will give you Wuuthrad."

"Done," Vilkas declared. He turned to Selene. "We were going originally; go with me now."

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Vilkas."

"It's your mission," said Farkas. "Kodlak confided in you about the Glenmoril Coven; he chose you to cure him. You should see it through. Vilkas will behave. Won't you, brother?"

She hated to admit it, but Farkas was right; even the woman in her dream said it was her responsibility to cure Kodlak. But why did Vilkas have to go with her? Anybody else would have been preferable. Going alone would have been preferable. Selene locked eyes with Vilkas for a very long, uncomfortable moment, all the peace, all the enlightenment she had attained at High Hrothgar melting away. She wasn't ready for this. It was too much, too soon. It had been more than a month, but when his silvery-gray eyes bored into hers, it felt like yesterday. She could even feel her eye throbbing. When Vilkas broke the stare first, she knew he felt the same. She also knew from his reaction when she had turned the blame for Kodlak's death on him that he was feeling responsible. He needed to go, needed to do _something_ to make it right, and she couldn't deny him that. It was going to be a long trip.

Selene went to the Drunken Huntsman to buy arrows from Elrindir, and she and Vilkas got on the road. They hadn't gotten very far when, with great apprehension in his voice, Vilkas uttered a single word. "Selene—"

"Don't," she interrupted, putting a hand up to stop him. "At this point it's best if we just keep our discussions on the task at hand. I'm not ready for anything else."

"Understood," he said with a discouraged sigh. "Aela traced the fragments to a Silver Hand outpost at Driftshade Refuge in The Pale. That's where we're heading."

They hiked north out of Whiterun, barely speaking as they passed farms and towers and crossed from Whiterun Hold into The Pale. They made camp just before they reached the snow line, laying out their bedrolls and building a fire but not bothering to pitch a tent. Selene took the first watch while Vilkas slept. She sat for hours, listening to him talk in his sleep, snarling and growling at his imagined prey. He sat up suddenly with a startled gasp and looked over at her, eyes wide.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Aye. Just the same old dreams. Get some rest; I'll keep watch."

Selene lay down on her bedroll and turned away from him. She slept better since her time at High Hrothgar, but her restless dreams were still filled with the hunt. After too short a time, she sat up and said, "Let's pack up and go."

"You too?"

She shrugged. "I'm used to it. Let's just go."

They almost died in Driftshade Refuge. The going was relatively easy until they entered the last room, where the leader and two of his lieutenants sat around a table with the fragments between them. The three Silver Hand bandits were experienced, and she and Vilkas were hard pressed to keep up. One of Selene's foes bashed her in the face with his shield, sending pain radiating through her eye.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" she roared as she maneuvered her sword around his shield to jab him in the ribs. A lucky hit to his throat finally cut him down, and Selene turned to see Vilkas fighting off the other two. One of them had his back to her and didn't see her come up and sink her blade into his side. He screamed as he turned toward her, battleaxe swinging wide and yanking the sword out of her hand, and almost connected with her neck. She managed to duck out of the way just in time to save her life, although he did manage to scrape the axe across the top of her head. Selene managed to grab the hilt of her sword and dragged it across his midsection, doing further damage as it carved through leather, skin, muscle and organs, as well as pulling him away from Vilkas, who used the extra space to maneuver and finally drop the Silver Hand's chief. Selene's opponent still fought, hanging frantically to life, but again a blade slipped into his back and Vilkas's greatsword took his last spark.

Selene sat on the floor and placed her hand gingerly on her head. It hurt, but not as badly as she had expected, and it wasn't bleeding much.

"It's a very shallow cut," Vilkas told her. He knelt down and looked at the bruise forming on her face. "Looks like he missed your eye." He reached out to her, but Selene pulled back.

"Don't touch me. How are you? Are you injured?"

"I think I could use a couple of stitches in my arm."

Selene scrambled across the floor to her pack and pulled out a healing potion, which she handed to Vilkas. "Did you bring a needle and catgut?"

"I didn't."

"Then we'll just have to hope the potion works. Can you move?"

"Of course." She climbed the steps to the table where the fragments lay. The Silver Hand had been piecing them together like a puzzle, and it was almost perfect, save for the piece hidden in Kodlak's drawer. Selene wrapped them carefully in linen cloth and placed them in her pack, and she and Vilkas left the fort and headed for home.

It took two days for Eorland to repair Wuuthrad, and Selene took the time to unpack from her trip and repack for the next one. They would be on the road to Ysgramor's tomb one night each way, and she made sure she had a change of clothes, extra straps for her armor, plenty of arrows, a full stock of potions, and food and drink. The plan was to spend the night at the inn in Dawnstar, so she didn't pack as much food as she normally would, only lunch, a snack, and rations in case they got stranded somewhere.

The morning they were to leave, Selene took Liska to Jorrvaskr, where the Companions would care for her while she was gone, and then met the rest of the Circle at the Skyforge to pick up Wuuthrad.

Eorland handed Selene the axe. "I think the one who returned the fragments should be the one to carry the weapon into battle," he declared.

Selene looked over at Vilkas, who was just as responsible for the return of the pieces as she was, but he nodded his assent, and she took the axe. "I'll carry it with honor," she said, her voice breaking.

Selene and Vilkas weren't the only ones who were quiet on the trip; Farkas and Aela barely spoke, either. They were on a grave mission to the tomb of one of the most important people in history, and they carried with them artifacts that would hopefully save the soul of the man they all saw as a father. It was a tremendous honor, but it was also frightening. What if they were unsuccessful? What if it didn't work, or if the repaired Wuuthrad wasn't sufficient to open the tomb, or if they couldn't defeat Kodlak's wolf spirit? What if they were too late? Selene had spent a month at High Hrothgar. The spirit in her dream had said Kodlak was hiding from Hircine in the tomb. What if she had waited too long and Hircine had found him? She would never forgive herself, and the others probably wouldn't either, especially Vilkas. Although she was still angry with him, the thought of him despising her and resenting her failure cut her to the quick.

They stayed the night in Dawnstar and got up before sunrise to complete the trip. On the last leg, they had to walk across dozens of icebergs to reach the island. They drank frost-resist potions in case they fell into the icy water, and they came in handy when Aela and Vilkas each lost their footing and got submerged. The potions weren't enough, though, and they walked the last few hundred yards to the tomb with blue lips and violent shivers. When they reached the tomb, Selene and Farkas did their best to warm them up. Skin-to-skin contact was the safest way, and because Farkas was trying to make a clean break from her before she left, he took Aela, leaving Selene to warm Vilkas. Removing their shirts and replacing their cloaks, they wrapped their arms around one another and held each other close. The proximity to Vilkas's naked chest made Selene very uncomfortable, and it wasn't just the chill of his skin. She was still uncomfortable with him touching her, but she couldn't ignore the scent of his sorrow and regret. He felt awkward too, but only because he knew how she still felt about him. She also couldn't ignore the feel of his body. He was so thin, having lost maybe ten kilos, but his muscles still seemed strong and solid, making him more wiry than bulky like Farkas. His bare skin against hers caused sensations she shouldn't be having.

Vilkas evidently noticed the change in her scent, because he drew away and stammered, "I, uh, feel much better. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

As he dressed, he said, "You should be careful when going through the crypt. Ysgramor is guarded by the ghosts of the original five hundred Companions, and they're not going to just let you walk through. It's not that you're intruding; I'd wager they're been waiting for you. They just want assurance that you're worthy."

"You keep saying 'you.' Are you not coming?"

He closed his eyes and drew a heavy breath. "Kodlak was right. He said we should not let vengeance rule our hearts, and I can't set the hatred for the Silver Hand aside. I am not worthy."

"Do you think the rest of us aren't thinking the same thing?"

"But at least you believe you were doing an honorable deed by preventing them from hurting anyone else. In my heart, I know I killed the Silver Hand at Driftshade Refuge solely for revenge. And I've done so much more...until I can forgive myself, I can't enter the tomb."

Selene nodded and walked past him to join Farkas and Aela, who stood next to a great statue of Ysgramor. "How do we get inside?" she asked.

"Return Wuuthrad to Ysgramor," Aela instructed. "It should open the door and let us in."

Selene held out the battleaxe to measure and sort out how she might fit it in Ysgramor's arms, but the statue suddenly came to life, reached out and took it from her, holding it in the rest position. "Sweet Kynareth!" she cried. But the door behind the statue opened, and she started toward it, glancing back to see if it had moved again, but it was as still as if the whole thing had been her imagination. Aela followed, and Farkas went to Vilkas and clapped him on the shoulder before trailing behind them.

The spirits of the 500 Companions were many, and they were tough. In the first two rooms, they battled a dozen of the ghostly warriors, which glowed with eerie blue light, and sustained a handful of non-life-threatening injuries. Somehow they managed to defeat the specters, drank a few potions and moved on. At the end of a large hall they found a doorway covered in spider webs, and the telltale chitter on the other side hinted that at least three or four frostbite spiders awaited them. Farkas stared at the web for a long moment and even raised his sword to cut through it, but he finally stood back and breathed a heavy sigh. "I can't," he confessed. "Ever since Dustman's Cairn. Everyone has a weakness, and this is mine."

"It's okay, love," Selene said, resting a gentle hand on his arm. "Why don't you go back and wait with Vilkas?"

He looked down at her with shame in his eyes. "I'm not proud of this."

"How many times have you rushed in and killed a skeever because they make me cringe, huh? And when we've come upon the spiders by surprise, you didn't hesitate. There's nothing to be embarrassed about."

Farkas turned to Aela, who simply shrugged. Selene figured Aela didn't understand, but that was her problem, not Farkas's. In the end, he nodded at Selene and walked back toward the exit.

"I think it took more courage to admit he was afraid than it would have to face the spiders," Aela whispered. She had been wrong; Aela _did_ understand.

Selene smiled at her shield-sister and took a swipe at the webs. They waded through half a dozen of the big crawlies and another ten or twelve dangerous ghosts before reaching the expansive hall where Ysgramor was buried. A mezzanine level contained reliefs depicting his adventures with the Companions, including how they discovered the Skyforge and settled Whiterun. At the very end was a platform, which was blocked by a heavy, iron grate, and inside stood the tomb of the man himself. The brazier stood in the center of the room, glowing with blue flame, and standing next to it was a ghost. He didn't attack when Selene and Aela came in; he just stood there warming his hands.

"Greetings, shield-sister," he said.

"Kodlak? Is that you?" It was her Harbinger, but he didn't look like he had the last time she had seen him. He was young, robust, and handsome, although his hair and beard were as white as they were when he died.

"The other Harbingers and I have been warming ourselves here while we hide from Hircine."

"But you're the only one here."

"You see only me because you know only me. I'd wager that Vignar would see half a dozen of my predecessors. But they see you. You have brought honor to yourself and to the Companions."

"It doesn't feel that way. I failed you. I didn't return in time to save you."

"You failed no one, shield-sister. What was meant to be came to pass."

"I've been told I might still save your spirit from Hircine."

Kodlak raised an eyebrow. "Have you, now? In that case, cast the head into the flames, and we will defeat my wolf spirit together."

Selene removed the head from the sack and threw it onto the brazier. It popped and crackled for a moment before exploding, the blue flames intensifying and a wail like that of the hagraven resounding through the hall. With a groan, Kodlak lurched, writing in agony and falling to his knees as he wrestled with his wolf spirit, an enormous animal made of red light instead of ghostly blue. It attacked the Harbinger, who was incapacitated and unable to fight back, so Selene and Aela set upon it. It wheeled about and snapped at her, but she managed to step back to avoid being bitten before it turned on Aela, who wasn't so lucky. The beast took a hefty chunk out of her forearm, and she snarled in pain and rage. They flanked it, one of them defending against its teeth while the other attacked its midsection and back, and they were ultimately able to put it down.

When Kodlak recovered, he beamed at them proudly. "You have defeated my wolf spirit and made it so that I may enter Sovngarde. For this you have my gratitude. But the other Harbingers still take solace here, and it is my hope that the heroes of old will return with me to rescue them. It will be a battle for all time. It is also my hope that someday _you_ will take up that fight as well, but for now, return to Jorrvaskr and celebrate your grand victory, and lead the Companions to further glory."

"What do you mean, lead?" Selene asked, but Kodlak was gone. She turned to Aela.

"Did he just say you were to lead the Companions?"

"Surely he doesn't mean I should act as Harbinger."

"Your honor and leadership ability are apparent to all, and I am proud to be the first to call you Harbinger. Let's go tell the others."

"But—"

Aela went to the back of the room and up the steps to gaze upon Ysgramor's tomb, and Selene followed. As they stood there, a large chest opened off to the right, and Selene went to investigate. Inside lay a shield made of steel and carved with intricate patterns. It glowed with magic.

"Ysgramor's shield," said Aela. "It appears someone wants you to have it."

"Or you."

"I don't use a shield; you do. It's meant for you."

Selene took the shield, and they made their way back to the front hall, where Farkas and Vilkas awaited them. "It's done," Selene told them. "I cured Kodlak."

"This is good," said Farkas.

Vilkas sighed with relief. "I was afraid it wouldn't work."

"I have four more heads back at home, you know. One for each of us."

"No," Aela declared as she dug through her pack for first aid supplies.

Farkas shook his head, but Vilkas regarded her, eyes wide. "It's true," he murmured.

"You should return here," Farkas said, laying his hand on his brother's shoulder. "I'll come with you."

"When I feel I am worthy. Will you come too?" Vilkas asked her, but Selene shook her head.

"I'm leaving when we get home."

"But Kodlak said you should be Harbinger," Aela protested.

"What?" Vilkas and Farkas exclaimed together.

"Aela, I don't think that's what he meant. What kind of Harbinger would I be? I'm twenty years old, and I can barely lead my pet fox out of the house so she can do her business."

"You're a better leader than you think," said Farkas. "How many scrapes have you gotten us out of?"

"Just as many as you have. No, I don't want this. One of you will have to do it. Or _all_ of you can do it. Is it written anywhere that there only has to be one Harbinger?"

"This is a great honor, Selene," Vilkas commented.

"Granted, and don't think I'm not honored. But it's not my destiny, and I know this."

"Why do you have to be so gods-damned stubborn?"

"Vilkas, you don't want to do this here," she warned, her voice steady and her eyes cold.

"Let's just go," said Farkas. "We've done what we came to do—rather, _you_ have—and now I feel like we're intruding. We can work this out when we get home."

Selene followed the Inner Circle out the door and across the icebergs, her head reeling. Harbinger? Surely that wasn't what he meant when he said she should lead the Companions. The entire Circle did that, right? He had meant to continue to lead with the Circle. The spirit in her dream had said to _save_ Kodlak, not replace him. But if she left, they would believe she was letting them down.

A gust of wind brought the faint sound of a howl, miles and miles away. The others probably didn't even hear it, but Kynareth made sure Selene did. The black dragon was out there along with who knew how many others. Only she could stop him, and she couldn't do that if she lived at Jorrvaskr and never ventured farther than the next job took her. If she didn't go out to meet the threat, it would come knocking on her door eventually; and by that time, it would be too late. She would stand helplessly by and watch her friends perish before succumbing herself.

No. She wouldn't let them down by leaving. She would let them down by staying. Master Arngeir loved to say, "Winds guide you." Even the spirit in her dream had said it. Thus, that was what Selene needed to do. When they reached Whiterun, she would say her goodbyes and go where the winds guided her.

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Characters and settings c. 2011 Bethesda Softworks LLC


	13. An Orphan's Tale 13: Epilogue

An Orphan's Tale 13

Epilogue

Selene puttered through Breezehome several times, picking through her things and trying to figure out what to take with her. This wasn't simple mission or quest; she was leaving on a semi-permanent basis. Packing light wasn't an option. She was thinking of buying a horse, but it would be inconvenient, having to go out of her way to tie it up at a stable or a charitable farmer's house when she needed to go into the wilderness or a crypt. Then there was Liska. She couldn't just let her follow along, and the logistics of a fox riding on horseback made her head spin.

When she finally finished packing, she piled everything near the door, let Liska out, and made her way out to the tundra to hunt. It would be easier to hunt now than on the road. Masser and Secunda were nearly full, and though Selene had learned to control her shift, their call was still well-nigh irresistible. She had thought about asking Farkas to come with her, but they had already said their goodbyes and there was no need to draw it out. Thus, she hunted alone.

After annihilating a couple of mudcrabs just for fun, she caught the scent of a deer near Lone Mountain and began tracking it. She found it grazing just over the next hill. Selene was upwind, so her prey didn't detect her as she crouched on all fours and crept toward it. It was a young buck, his antlers not fully grown, fast but inexperienced. No problem. She snuck closer and was just about to pounce when another scent filled her nostrils. It was Vilkas, in beast form, tracking the same deer. Well, she wasn't about to let him take her kill. She eyed the buck carefully, making sure the other werewolf's scent hadn't made him aware of danger, but he continued to munch happily, totally unaware of is impending doom. Selene focused on the deer, the sights and sounds of the world around her fading away until there was nothing but her and her prey. She waited. Just a moment. Just 'til the right instance, her muscles tense, coiled like a snake ready to strike. And then she sprang. The buck squealed and took off, but Selene was right on his heels. Panicked, he made the mistake of running into a blind hollow, and she had him trapped. A cornered deer was more dangerous than one she had to chase, and he fought frantically, trying to gore her with his antlers. He connected once, punching a hole in her shoulder, and Selene snarled and grabbed hold of the antler before it could do more damage. She managed to wrestle him to the ground and struck, the buck screaming as she tore into his throat. Her wolf spirit surged and most human thought drifted away, and she grunted and panted as teeth and claws shredded hide and muscle and ripped bones away until they found the heart. The heart was like a drug, the blood warm and fresh and the flesh soft and supple. She yanked it away and bit into it, savoring the texture and the squirt of blood, almost purring in bliss as it trickled down her throat and energy coursed through her body. But the heart was small and gone all too soon, and then she fed on the rest of the deer, heady and delectable in its own right.

When she had eaten her fill, she licked her chops and lounged on the soft grass for a while, her hunger and lust for the hunt sated. The other lust would come later, and she would just have to deal with it, but for now, she was relaxed and comfortable lying there and looking up at the sky. It was overcast; there were no stars tonight. No matter. Kynareth was still up there somewhere, watching over her.

Selene believed the woman in the dream had been Kynareth. She certainly _looked_ like a goddess, ethereal and lovely, although she had personality. She wasn't haughty and officious like she thought the Divines would be. But even her voice sounded familiar. If she tried very hard, she could still hear the voice that spoke in her mind at Eldergleam Sanctuary; and although it could just be her imagination, she could swear it was the same one. But why in Nirn would Kynareth choose her? For that matter, why would Akatosh choose her as the Dragonborn? Well, they obviously must see something she didn't, because she still saw a cynical brawler with a talent for firing a bow and picking pockets. She hadn't picked a pocket in over a year, but still. On the other hand, the Divines probably chose a lot of people for different things. It was no point questioning them anyway. She had always said people lived at the whims of the gods, so she guessed she was just doing it more than others.

Selene got up and went to the river to clean up and then headed to the nook where her clothes were stashed. After treating and bandaging her shoulder, she dressed and took her time as she walked back to Whiterun, tranquil and content for the first time since her stay at High Hrothgar. Liska was waiting at the door, and she let the fox and herself into Breezehome.

Breezehome. She had never even thought about it before. Even the name of her house reflected her worship of the goddess of the winds.

She banked the fire, which was burning low, and then went upstairs to change out of her armor and put on a dress. She wasn't quite ready to sleep, so she grabbed a book and a bottle of mead and sat by the fire to read. Lydia was on guard duty for a few days and had been staying at the barracks, so the house was pleasantly quiet. Selene liked Lydia, but she didn't need her there and the housecarl really just got in the way. It would be nice to have her to watch the house while she was gone, but tonight she would have been underfoot.

She was just finishing her mead when Vilkas came to the door. She picked up his scent before he knocked, and her first inclination was just to let him stay out there, but he called, "Selene, open the door. Please." The pain in his voice, almost desperation, compelled her to act, and she got up and let him in. But she found she couldn't look at him, and she turned her back.

"You're leaving tomorrow?" he asked.

"Aye. The Graybeards are sending me to Ustengrav to find an artifact for them."

"Take care. Ustengrav is a known refuge for necromancers."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind." She picked nervously at a piece of loose skin on her thumb.

"Selene, please look at me."

She took a deep breath and turned around. He wore a white shirt and leather pants, and his hair was perfect as usual. The scent of his beast form was heavy around him, as well as no small amount of anxiety. "I smelled you out on the tundra," she muttered.

He nodded. "I haven't been able to resist my beast form lately."

"I'm sorry. I know that it means—"

Vilkas dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around Selene's waist, bursting into tears. "Selene, I'm so sorry," he sobbed. "I never meant to hurt you; I would die before I hurt you. Please, please forgive me."

The last time they had stood on this spot, Vilkas had broken her heart. Now he broke it again. Tears welled in Selene's eyes, and she stroked his hair, hugging him to her as he cried. "Shh," she whispered, "it's okay; it's all right." And it was. In that moment, she completely forgave him and wanted nothing more than to protect him from his grief once again, but then she realized she did want more. She knelt and gently wiped his tears, whispering words of comfort, and then she kissed him.

He opened his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply, then drew her to the floor. Selene felt as though her heart would explode from her chest as he lay next to her, drinking her in and moving his hands over her curves. He loosened the laces of her bodice, then pulled her dress over her head, the two of them laughing uneasily when it got caught between her body and the floor. He gingerly trailed his fingers over her bandaged shoulder, then cupped her breast, caressing the nipple with his thumb. She slipped his shirt over his head, and he gasped with pleasure as she kissed his neck and then worked her way down his chest and abdomen with her lips and tongue, tracing the soft line of hair that ran from his navel to the hidden reaches below his waistline. After pulling his boots off, she untied the laces of his breeches and tugged them down his hips, again following the path with her mouth.

"Come here," he moaned, and she crawled toward him.

She tried not to compare the brothers, but it was impossible. With Farkas, it had been physical—the heat, the desire, the primal urges—but Vilkas channeled all his feelings into his lovemaking, his grief, frustration, and intense passion going into every touch, every kiss, every thrust. He suppressed his wolf spirit, loving her just as a man, but with every part of the man. He stared into Selene's eyes, and she saw deep inside him, all the way to his tortured soul. She was swept away with emotion, and tears streamed down her cheeks as he moved above her. There was no future with Vilkas; after tonight she would leave Whiterun. It would probably be a long time before she even saw him again, and then only as friends, shield-siblings. But at this moment, she loved him and would do anything for him.

Late into the night, they lay in each other's arms, warm in her bed beneath the furs, and he covered her face and neck with gentle kisses. "Stay," he implored her.

"You know I can't."

"Can't, or won't?"

"I mean, how are we gonna face Farkas after this?"

"Farkas will understand."

"Vilkas, I don't want to come between you. I've probably already done that."

"I'm not saying he won't be hurt, but he will accept it. I doubt he'll even be surprised. But there's more to it than Farkas, isn't there?"

Selene lay silently for a long moment, weighing her words. What would Vilkas think if she told him about the dream? They had shared a lot of secrets; maybe he would just accept it. Or maybe he would think she was deranged. "Do you remember when you asked who told me we could still cure Kodlak and I said you wouldn't believe me?"

"Aye."

"I had a dream. There was a woman, and she told me there were things I was meant to do, but I couldn't do them from Jorrvaskr. She said my destiny lies elsewhere."

"But it was just a dream."

She shook her head. "I don't think so. I think it was Kynareth."

Vilkas's eyes flew open wide. "By Ysmir! Selene, that's...if anybody else had said that to me, I would have said they were mad, but you...look at all you've done already. You're meant for big things; this, I know."

"So you believe me?"

He caressed her cheek. "Aye, I believe you. Go and fulfill your destiny. But know that you have a home here. You will always be a Companion, and you'll always be in my heart."

Selene curled her fingers around his neck and pulled him to her, but before their lips could touch, Liska tottered in and jumped on the bed. "Wow-wow-wow-wow!"

"Damn it, Liska, you're killing the moment!" She leaned in and gave Vilkas a quick kiss, then wrapped a fur around herself and led Liska downstairs to let her out.

* * *

Instead of taking everything she owned, Selene decided instead to pack for a long trip. Until she knew where Kynareth would take her, she would make Whiterun her home base. Vilkas had said she had a home there, and he was right. She didn't have to leave Whiterun altogether to find her destiny. Yes, she would go where the winds guided her, but she could always come back to Breezehome, to Jorrvaskr, and to Vilkas—hopefully to Farkas too. They were two halves of the perfect man: one sweet, charming, and sexy; the other intellectual and determined with deep, hidden passions; and both of them so full of love.

The next morning, Vilkas watched with amusement as Selene unpacked and repacked, putting away more than half her belongings and muttering about how she had almost bought a horse for no reason. When she was ready to go, they stood inside the door and exchanged a long, tearful goodbye.

"I'll miss you so much," he whispered, holding her close and kissing the top of her head.

Selene almost gave in, but she knew she had to go, and there was no point putting it off any longer. She pulled away and placed one last kiss on his lips, then opened the door and parted ways with him on her front step. She stopped at the city gate where Lydia was standing guard and said goodbye, and then she and Liska walked down the road toward the Western Watchtower, where they would turn north and head for Hjaalmarch.

Just as they passed the tower, a warm gust of wind blew past, and Liska cooed at Selene's feet. She smiled down at the fox and looked back toward town. "I'll see you soon, Whiterun," she promised.

**Selene's story continues in _An Operative's Tale_, coming soon.**

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Characters and settings c. 2011 Bethesda Softworks LLC


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